


Sleep

by Minniver



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, But nooooo had to have this huge plot suddenly, Case Fic, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Fairy Tale Elements, Homophobic Language, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Like, M/M, No Mary Winchester, Pre-Season/Series 12, Sam Ships It, Sassy Castiel, Slow Burn, Sorry Not Sorry, This was supposed to be a short fic, What Have I Done, glacially slow, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-09-19 09:22:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 48,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9432632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minniver/pseuds/Minniver
Summary: Called to a case in Tulsa, the Winchesters and Cas go to investigate a string of disappearances involving an apartment.  When they get taken, Dean is faced with an impossible choice; but either way, he could lose everything he cares about.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is unbeta'd, so as always, any mistakes are mine and mine alone. Comments and kudos are always welcome! I'll update the tags as I think of them (since I'm still new at the whole tagging thing). Enjoy!

Prologue

_The days here were endless. The only light, the flicking of flame, the only sounds, the never ending screams. Each day melted into the next, a never-ending whirl of pain and blood. Pain was his world; all he knew as he was taken apart, inch by inch, stripped bare and brought low, again and again. Each time he begged for death, only to awake, whole and unharmed, to begin the torture all over again. He began to retreat into his own mind for a respite from the pain. He'd always enjoyed the old fairy tales, and sought refuge there, creating a world where he was the hero, not the disgraced. Where all played their parts as they were meant to, and the ending was fixed. In his mind, he could be any one, any character, and it helped distract him from the daily punishment inflicted on his body. As could be expected, gradually his imaginary world was realer to him than his reality, becoming the nightmares he woke from in a sweat, before completing his quest to save the damsel in distress._

_He was in one such nightmare, when something happened. A thunderous roar, accompanied by an earthshaking tremor, shook his prison. He looked above him, seeing a gap in the cage he was trapped in, and he leapt, managing to squeeze through. Another mighty tremor, and debris filled the gap, as he fell to his knees atop his former prison. He took a moment to gain his bearings. With a thought, he flared his long-forgotten wings, and took to the air, seeking an escape, his broken mind pleading with himself to wake up from this awful dream. Frantic, he flew, dodging demons and hell spawn, all of whom stared at him with varying expressions of shock and awe. His mouth opened in a silent scream of frustration as he tried to find a way out. As he approached another nondescript hallway, he sensed rather than saw a point of weakness. In his dream, he reasoned, he should be able to punch through, hopefully freeing himself, or at the least the impact would wake him up. Closing his eyes, he gathered his power, and with a yell flung himself at the weakness he sensed, hoping against hope that he was right. With a blindingly bright flash of light, he disappeared, leaving a handful of demons dead at his feet from the blast._

Chapter 1 

“I dunno, man, this doesn't really sound like our kinda thing,” Dean groused, eying his brother from the other side of the table. 

“How is a bunch of unexplained disappearances not our thing, Dean?” Sam shot back, frowning at his brother. “And all of it centered around this particular building?” 

Dean sighed, and flapped his hands in a 'go on' gesture. “Okay, tell it to me again, from the top.” 

“Okay, so get this,” Sam replied, tapping a few buttons on his laptop. “This building, used to be a warehouse back in the fifties, but a few years ago it was bought by a development company and turned into a bunch of high end apartments. Everything's fine for a while, but about a year ago, tenants start randomly disappearing, always from the same apartment.” 

“Maybe they just didn't wanna pay the rent? And how many we talkin'?”

“Five in total. And these aren't your average run of the mill apartments, these are the kind that check your credit score before they'll even take an application.” Sam clicked a few more buttons. “And the latest disappearance was last month. A Eugene Crane, who'd only been in the apartment for six months prior to going missing.” 

Dean took a contemplative sip of his coffee. “So what are we thinking? Even a vengeful spirit would leave a body. And anything that'd eat all or part of the bodies would leave some kinda mess.” 

“That's the other weird thing. There was no sign of forced entry, nothing out of place, nothing missing. Doors and windows were still locked, and the apartment's on the second floor. The next to last missing, an Amelia Baker, had even left food on the table, as if she was in the middle of a meal when she disappeared.” 

“Okay, this might be our kind of thing,” Dean conceded. “So where we headed?” 

“Tulsa, Oklahoma.” 

Before Dean could respond, his phone rang. Looking at the caller ID, he picked up the phone. “Heya Cas, how's it hanging? Getting ready to head out on a case. Tulsa. Yeah, sure, if you wanna, it's cool. Sure, we'll call you when we get there. Later.” 

At his brother's raised eyebrows, Dean explained, “Cas is gonna tag along and help us out.” 

“Really? I'd have thought he'd be busy with angel stuff.” 

Dean shrugged. “No clue man, but I figured with not knowing what it is, might not hurt to have an extra set of eyes, you know?” 

“Suppose the fact that we haven't seen him in a few weeks doesn't hurt either, huh?” Sam commented dryly, grinning at his brother. 

“Dude's busy,” Dean said, frowning at his brother. “And he called me, not the other way around, smart ass.” 

“Sure Dean, sure,” Sam laughed, holding his hands up in a 'I give' gesture. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” 

“Not sure what you're getting at, but you can eat a dick. Go get your shit together, we're heading out in twenty.” Flipping his brother off for good measure, he got up and headed for his room to pack, ignoring his brother's laughter behind him. 

~~

Six hours later found the Winchesters meeting Cas in a diner outside town. Dean gave the waitress an appreciative once over as she sat down their food, giving Dean a wink. He was pulled back from staring at her ass as she sashayed away by Sam kicking his shin under the table. 

“Ow, Sam, the hell?” He whined, giving his little brother an innocent look. 

“We're talking about the case, if you could stop thinking with your dick for five minutes, it'd be great,” Sam griped, glaring at him. 

“What, she was hot!” Dean shot back. He looked to Cas for confirmation. “Tell him Cas,” he said, elbowing the man next to him in the booth. 

“She was physically attractive, but we have more important things to focus on right now,” came the gravely voice to his left. 

“See, Cas thought she was hot too!” Dean crowed, picking up his burger and taking a huge bite, giving a not-so-quiet moan of bliss. “So good,” he mumbled around a mouthful of food. 

Sam shot him another dirty look, and Cas rolled his eyes before taking a sip of his coffee. 

“Anyway,” Sam groused, shuffling some papers in front of him, “I think the best way to play this one would be to try and rent the apartment.” 

“Wouldn't it be easier to just go in like we normally do, all FBI-y?” Dean asked. 

“I did some more digging on the victims. None of them had roommates, significant others, pets, anything like that. They lived alone, and kept to themselves, for the most part. There was seriously no trace evidence left at the scene, nothing out of place, it was like the people just up and left. There was seriously nothing they had in common, other than being in that apartment. So I think in this case, we need to be on the ground, so to speak, and see if we can get it to try and take one of us.” 

Dean frowned, wiping his mouth with a napkin as he sat back from the table. “Thought you said this place did credit checks and crap before renting.” 

“They do.” 

“I'm not sure going in alone is a wise idea,” Cas said, looking at both brothers in turn. “Wouldn't it be safer to have two inside, rather than one?” 

“But what if that keeps whatever it is from coming? I've got a hunch on this one, guys. What if having more than one person there is what keeps it from showing up?” Sam replied. 

“Okay, say we go with this,” Dean said. “Who's going?” Before the angel could speak, Dean held his hand up. “Cas, I think it'd be better if you wait, like for backup or something. Plus, who knows if this thing could sense you or something?” 

“But Dean,” Cas started, but Dean cut him off again. 

“Who better to save our ass if one of us gets gone, Cas?”

Cas stared at him for a long moment, before shaking his head slightly. “Very well,” he growled. “But I don't like this plan.” 

“Good, so that's settled,” Dean said brightly. Looking across the table at his brother, he held one fist over his hand. “Rock paper scissors?”

Pursing his lips, he nodded and both men pounded fists into palms three times. Sam was flabbergasted when his rock was beaten by Dean's paper. 

“Dude, the hell? You always go with scissors!” 

“Which is why I threw paper this time, Sammy,” Dean crowed. “So let's go call about an apartment!”

Throwing money on the table to cover the bill, he slid out of the booth, snapping his fingers and humming under his breath as he headed toward the door. 

Cas and Sam gave each other similar looks of resignation before following the elder Winchester out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the first chapter was kinda short, but they do get longer from here on out. Comments are always welcome! :)

“Can't believe you talked me into this,” Dean groused, shooting Sam a disgruntled look and tugging on the sweater his brother had gotten him to wear. “I feel like a friggin' stooge,” he whined as he parked the car in front of the apartment building. 

“I think you look very nice, Dean,” Cas said. 

Dean shot the angel a sour look, but Cas only gave him a small smile in return. 

“Quit pulling at it, Dean, you're gonna stretch the fabric,” Sam sniped. “I told you, you have to look the part here, and our normal look wasn't gonna cut it.” 

“I know, I know, I just feel like fuckin' Mr. Rogers in this get up,” he grumbled.

“And try to sound like you have more than a ten word vocabulary,” Sam said. 

“I got the memo, Sammy, now quit being a sore loser already.” 

Sam glared at him briefly as they walked up the sidewalk to the building's office. They had an appointment to meet the building manager, who'd agreed to show them the apartment after Dean's fake ID had passed the credit check. The building itself was large, around ten thousand square feet according to the website. It housed eight apartments, plus the manager's office. 

A petite blonde met them at the door, tastefully dressed with artfully applied makeup. She smiled brightly at them, “Are one of you Mr. David Hornsby?” she asked, holding out her hand for Dean to shake. 

“That's me,” he said, giving her a smile of his own, shaking her hand. “Thank you for taking the time to meet us today.” 

“Oh, it's no problem! I'm Pam, the building manager. I think you'll really like it here at Woodcrest. Now, I understood that you were looking for an apartment just for yourself?” she asked, looking at Cas and Sam. 

“I'm David's brother, Lucas,” Sam said, reaching to shake the woman's hand. “He's been staying with me the last month or so while he found a place of his own.” 

“Are you his significant other, then?” she asked, turning her bright smile on Cas. 

Cas, momentarily struck dumb, looked at Dean, who was turning a purplish-red and starting to sputter. Sam quickly stepped in, mentally crossing his fingers his brother and friend wouldn't kill him. “Yes, this is Dean, sorry, my brother's still kind of shy about his _relationship_ ,” he said, stressing the last word while looking at his older brother. 

To his credit, Cas only looked at Sam briefly before smiling slightly at Pam. “Dean, Dean Smith,” he said, ignoring the choking sounds that Dean was making to his right. 

With a frown, Pam looked over at Dean. “Is he all right?” she asked, concern etched on his features. 

“He's got bad allergies, he's been draining all morning,” Sam said quickly, shooting his brother a death glare. “He'll be fine. Won't you, Dave?” he asked, glaring at his brother pointedly. 

With a glare of his own at his little brother, Dean wheezed in a breath and nodded at Pam, managing to suck in enough air to croak out, “Yup, horrible allergies.” 

“We can do this another time, if you're not feeling well,” she asked, still looking concerned. 

Dean flapped a hand at her, and managed a smile. “I'm good, but if you had some water, that'd be great.” 

“Sure thing! Just come on in, and have a seat in the office, I'll get you a cup and then we can go tour the apartment.” With a bright smile, she turned and led the men toward the door and inside. 

Dean smiled at her again as she left, presumably to get him the promised water, but as soon as she was out the door he leaned over and whispered furiously at his brother, “I swear to Chuck, Sammy, I will kill you. What the fuck, man?” He leaned over and punched his brother in the shoulder, hard for good measure. 

“Ow!” Sam whispered back, glaring at Dean. “Dude, we didn't really think of a cover story for Cas, so I just went with it. You seriously were gaping at her like a landed trout, somebody had to say something,” he said defensively, rubbing his shoulder. 

Cas looked between the two brothers before whispering himself, “What does it matter, Dean? It's just for the case.” 

“What does it matter? It matters-” he cut off sharply, pasting a smile on his face as Pam came back into the room with his water. Thanking the woman, he gulped down the water, grateful for the wetness on his parched throat. 

“Are we ready to go look at the apartment?” she asked, looking at all three men. 

“Sure thing,” Dean said, getting up to follow her out, but turning back over his shoulder to glare at his brother once more as he went out the door. 

The apartment, it turned out, was in the corner on the second floor. The two bedroom apartment had floor to ceiling windows in the living room, which overlooked a small pond and a park below, hardwood floors, and exposed brick walls. Stainless steel appliances and dark cherry cabinets were found in the kitchen area, with a huge grill top/stove that definitely piqued Dean's interest. The master bedroom had the same floor to ceiling windows as the living room, but had a small balcony with a set of chairs and table, accessible via pair of french doors. Dean made sure to keep Pam's attention on him so Cas and Sam could check for hex bags and EMF. Dean frowned when both men shook their heads, but quickly turned it back into a gamin grin for Pam, who was enthusiastically pointing out how the exposed duct work and pipework gave the place aesthetic charm. After the tour, they came back to the kitchen, where Pam had them sit around the dining room table. 

“So, gentlemen, what do you think?” she asked, smiling brightly at each in turn. 

“It's a beautiful place, for sure,” Sam said, returning the woman's smile. “If I didn't already have a place, I'd jump on it in a heartbeat!” 

“And what do you think, Mr. Hornsby? Think you could see yourself living here?”

Dean nodded, also giving her a smile. “I think it's just about perfect.” 

“Excellent! So, just a few things to go over, and then we can head back to the office and start on the paperwork. Rent is twenty-five hundred a month, but that includes all the utilities. It also includes once a week maid service, but if you don't want that, then the rent would be an even two thousand. Most people opt to take the maid service, but it's completely up to you. There is also a thousand dollar deposit, due with the first month's rent.” 

To Dean's credit, he didn't let his inner sticker shock show on his face at the amount of money they'd have to shell out to stay here for such a short time. “Sounds good,” he managed, after Sam kicked him under the table. 

“Now, will your boyfriend be living here as well?” 

Cas answered, saving Dean from having to answer. “No, I have my own place, but I will be over to visit occasionally,” he said smoothly, giving Dean a small smile. 

“Wonderful! I did want to let you know that we are very inclusive, and that if you two decide to move in together, it wouldn't be a problem, it would just be a matter of adding his name to the lease,” she said, clapping her hands together. 

Dean managed another smile, even though he wanted, quite badly, to slap both Cas and his brother for starting this mess. “Thank you, but we're not quite to that point, just yet.” 

“So, should we head to the office, then? Or do you need some time to think about it?” 

“No ma'am, I do believe this place has everything I need.” 

“Excellent! Let's go fill out some paperwork, and get you into your new home!” With another bright smile, Pam ushered the men out of the apartment and downstairs, leading the way back to her office. Once inside, Dean signed his fake name to a number of forms, while answering questions. 

“Now, Mr. Hornsby, I forgot to ask, but what do you do for a living?” 

“Architect. I design buildings, mostly. Just finished up a big project in Dubai, huge building,” he replied, the lie rolling smoothly off his tongue. 

“Oh, goodness, have you traveled much? That sounds so exciting!” 

“I've been all over, but truthfully, I'm ready to put down some roots. Looking at maybe opening my own firm, but I haven't decided for sure yet.” 

“And what about you, Mr. Hornsby?” she asked, looking at Sam. 

“I do web design and app design, mostly freelance. But I enjoy it and it pays the bills.” 

“That sounds like it would definitely be interesting. Anything you've made that I might have heard of?” she asked, while handing Dean another paper to sign. 

“I've not created anything completely by myself,” he said, smiling at her. “Mostly I work in collaboration with other people, but the last project I worked on was a website for an online magazine called Belle Reve. It's a wedding planning site.” 

Pam frowned thoughtfully. “I don't believe I've heard of that, but now I'll have to look,” she said, giving Sam another smile. “And you, Mr. Smith?” 

Cas looked a bit startled, looking at Dean for help. “He's a headhunter,” Dean said, raising his eyebrows at Cas. “He helps other companies look for talent.” 

“What companies have you worked for?”

“Ah, mostly bigger corporations, right _Dean_ ,” Dean said to Cas, giving him a meaningful look, “like HP and Google.” 

“Y-yes, like David said, my work causes me to travel, as well. Looking for talented workers,” Cas stammered, the tips of his ears going red with embarrassment. 

“Okay, I think we have everything, so, how will you be paying today?” Pam asked, putting all the signed paperwork into a manilla folder with Dean's fake name on it. 

“I haven't set up a local bank yet, is cash okay?” Dean flashed Pam his most charming smile. 

“Well, usually, we prefer a check or a credit card...” she said, giving Dean a smile of her own, “But in this case, I think I can make an exception, provided that you use a check or card next month.” 

“Deal,” Dean said, and reached for his wallet, counting out thirty-five hundred in cash. She took the money and recounted it, and wrote out Dean a receipt, which he pocketed back in his wallet. With a flourish, she handed him the keys. 

“Here you go! If you need anything, I'm usually here from nine to five Monday through Thursday, and ten to six on Fridays. On the weekends, you can contact the super if you need anything, or you can speak to him throughout the week if you need any repairs. I'll get with you later this week to set up the maid service, such as what day of the week and time you'd prefer. If you have any questions, please let me know, I'm always happy to help.” Pam stood, and shook hands with all three men. “It was a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Hornsby and Mr. Smith. I hope you visit often!” 

“I'm sure we will,” Sam said, giving her smile and a nod. 

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” Cas said politely. 

Dean led the way out to the car, silently fuming. He waited until they were pulling away from the building, before he started unloading on his little brother. “Seriously, what the fuck, Sammy? The hell were you thinking?” 

“Dean, think about it, this will make things easier-”  
“Easier? How will it make it easier, Sam? You think she's not gonna notice and think something's fishy, when Cas and I aren't being all-” he stopped, making a motion with his other hand.

“Touchy-feely?” Sam supplied. 

“Fuck you, Sam, and yes, that.”

“This gives us both an excuse to be here. I mean, I'm your brother, so it won't be weird if I'm around a lot. But with Cas posing as your boyfriend, it won't be weird that he's around as much as I am.” 

“Sam, this is so not okay. It's not even in the same realm as okay!” Dean spat. 

Cas finally spoke up from the backseat. “I can simply stay away, and just pop in and out from within the apartment. No one has to see me if I don't wish it,” he said quietly. 

Dean looked in the rear-view mirror at the angel. Cas was looking out the window at the passing scenery, his face blank. But his shoulders were hunched, and he slumped in his seat. A flicker of guilt ran through him. He was mad at Sam, but Cas probably thought he was mad at him too, for going along with it. 

“This is so fucking stupid,” he grumped, as he pulled out onto the highway heading back toward their hotel. “I hate you so much right now, Sam.” 

“Does this mean you don't wanna go along with it, or you do?” Sam asked, quirking his eyebrows up at him. 

Dean seethed in silence for a few minutes. When he looked in the rear-view mirror again, green met blue. He felt some of the anger drain away in the face of that true blue gaze. Cas' gaze was calm, and steady, and gave Dean his unspoken support of however Dean wanted to play things. 

“Fine,” he ground out, as he turned into the parking lot for their hotel. “But after this case is over, we never speak of it again. Period. Or so help me, Sammy, I'll dose your food and shave your head in your sleep. You'll wake up all Dr. Evil.” 

Sam held up his hands in a make peace gesture, struggling to hide a smile. “Whatever you say, Dean.” 

Dean glared at him a moment more, before getting out of the car, and slamming the door hard. “That went better than expected,” Sam sighed, running a hand over his face. 

“Can I ask you a question, Sam?” Cas asked quietly from the backseat. 

“Sure, Cas.” 

“Why did you do that? Why did you tell that woman that Dean and I are lovers?” 

Sam twisted around in his seat to look at Cas. “Honestly? We didn't work out a cover story for you, who you were or anything. So when she said it, it was just a good idea at the time, giving you a cover for being there as much as I would be. Because most guy friends don't just spend days on end at their buddy's house.” 

“Oh.” 

Sam raised his eyebrows at the angel. “Are you mad at me too?” 

“No,” Cas answered quickly, looking back up at Sam. “I was just curious.” 

“Are you asking if I knew about the crush you have on my brother?” Sam teased.

Wide blue eyes and a spreading tinge of pink across the angel's face made Sam laugh. “Holy shit, Cas, I was kidding, do you really?” 

Embarrassed, Cas crossed his arms and looked out the window. “I fail to see the humor here, Sam.” 

“Oh shit, Cas, I'm sorry. I didn't know.” _But I thought as much_ , Sam thought to himself. “I won't say anything, I promise. But that's honestly not why I said what I said.” 

“I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything to Dean,” Cas said stiffly. 

“No, not a problem, my lips are sealed,” Sam said, miming zipping his lips. 

Cas tilted his head and squinted his eyes, appraising the younger man. Satisfied, he nodded at Sam. “Thank you.” 

“Sure, Cas, we're family, it's what we do.” Sam smiled encouragingly at the angel. “So, ah, I guess we better get out before Dean comes to see what we're up to, huh?” 

Nodding again at Sam, Cas opened his door and got out, Sam following suit. About the time they got to the door of their room, Dean jerked the door open and poked his head out, clearly looking for them. “Did you get lost, or did you decide to swap bedtime stories and braid Samantha's hair?” 

Sam rolled his eyes and pushed past his older brother. “So hilarious, I forgot to laugh. Just like the other hundred times you've said it.” 

Cas waited outside the door, and he and Dean locked eyes again, staring at each other wordlessly for a long moment. Finally, Dean broke away with a cough, before stepping back from the door frame. “You gonna stand out there all day, or you gonna come in?” 

Cas gave him a small smile, and followed Dean inside.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day found them making props for Dean's new apartment. Sam went to a local bookstore and found some books and magazines on architecture to put around the apartment. He then insisted on taking some pictures of the three of them, in various poses, to put in some cheap frames for decoration. Dean had rolled his eyes, but after Cas had said he'd like to have some pictures of them all to keep, he'd shut his mouth and submitted to the process. He'd flatly refused to do anything other than stand with Cas in the same picture, refusing to even hug the other man. 

“Dean, you have to make it look like you at least like each other.” Sam's tone was slightly exasperated. 

“Sammy, be glad you're getting this much,” he said, grudgingly clapping a hand on Cas' shoulder. 

Getting Cas to wear something other than his suit and trench coat had been another battle. Both Dean and Sam had to practically browbeat him into wearing some of Dean's clothes for the pictures. 

“I still don't understand why I can't wear my own clothes,” Cas complained for the fiftieth time, a frown on his face. 

“Cas, we've talked about this. You can't wear the same damn clothes in every picture,” Dean said, crossing his arms, as he made Cas put on yet another shirt. “Otherwise it defeats the whole purpose of doing this.” 

“I like my clothes,” he muttered, pulling on Dean's button down shirt. “I still don't understand why I couldn't at least wear my own pants.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Cas, dress pants and tee shirts don't mix.” 

Cas' frown only got deeper. “You didn't have take every picture from so far away.” 

“Seriously, dude, you're being more pissy about this than I am, and that's saying something.” Sam had put them both on stools for the next picture, and Dean turned slightly so that he was facing Cas. 

Cas mirrored him, knocking his knees with Dean's lightly. “I like my clothes,” he said, still frowning. 

“Well, it doesn't hurt you to branch out a bit,” Dean replied. “Besides, my clothes look good on you,” he said offhandedly, before realizing what he said. His eyes went wide for a second, and he looked at Cas, who looked at him with a faint grin. In spite of himself, Dean smiled back, but then scowled when he saw the flash of the camera. “Dude, the hell? We weren't ready.” 

“Trust me, that was better,” Sam grinned, looking like the cat that ate the canary. 

After that, Sam decreed that they were done, but refused to let either of them see the pictures. He told them both that they could see it when he was done, and after a brief argument with Dean over the keys to the Impala, he headed out to get the pictures developed and pick up some cheap picture frames. 

After he left, Dean flopped back on the bed, and looked at Cas, who'd started to unbutton the shirt of Dean's he was wearing. “Ah, it's okay, if you wanna wear it for now,” he said. “If you wanna,” he added, as Cas froze and looked at him strangely. Dean felt the first stirrings of embarrassment. “Or not, that's fine too.” 

“I don't want to make you uncomfortable,” Cas finally said, uncertainty in his tone. 

“It's cool,” Dean said, flapping a hand at him. “If you want, after Sam gets back, we can go get you some clothes of your own, if you aren't cool with wearing mine.” 

“I can just put my suit and tie back on-”

“Dude, seriously. I wasn't kidding when I said you need to branch out. Don't you get tired of wearing the same thing all the time?” Dean sat up then, looking at the angel curiously. 

Cas fiddled with the hem of his shirt for a long moment. “I've never really thought about it,” he confessed. “Even when I was without my grace, I didn't have many clothes, so it wasn't a big issue. At other times, it wasn't an issue, because any dirt or bodily fluids that got on my clothes I could remove with my grace.” He paused, then looked up at Dean. “I supposed I'm just used to it, and it feels odd to be in anything else.” 

“I can get that,” Dean nodded. “When Sammy and I first started having to wear suits for cases, I hated it. It just felt so odd, so different, you know?” At Cas' nod, he spoke again. “Now, though, it's not so bad. It's just clothes, you know?” He smiled at Cas then. “So, that means we just gotta get you used to wearing other stuff. Again.” 

“You truly don't mind, then?” 

“Naw, man, it's cool.” Satisfied the issue was handled, Dean picked up the TV remote and turned it on, flipping channels looking for something to watch. He looked up at Cas, who still stood by the stools. “You can sit down, you know.” 

Cas started, and pulled a chair from the table over closer to the bed, so he could see the TV as well. “What are you watching?” 

“Dunno yet, still looking.” He stopped when he saw a rerun of Dr. Sexy. “Perfect,” he said, smiling. He looked over at Cas. “I know you've been watching stuff on Netflix, but have you ever see this show?” 

“I don't believe so.” 

“Oh, man, then we have to watch it,” Dean grinned, and proceeded to tell Cas all about one of his favorite shows. 

Cas allowed himself a small smile at Dean's enthusiasm, nodding in all the right places. Really, he was more interested in watching Dean than the show, but he didn't want Dean to know that. He had to force himself to look at the television more than once, so Dean wouldn't think he was staring at him.   
“Cas, you still with me?” Dean's voice broke through, and Cas realized he'd been staring at the TV, lost in thought. 

“I'm sorry, Dean, what were you saying?” 

Dean laughed at him. “Dude, if I'm boring you, we can watch something else.” 

“No, Dean, it's fine, I was just thinking of other things. My apologies.” 

“It's fine, really. So ah, everything going okay upstairs? I haven't really had a chance to ask.” 

“As well as could be expected,” Cas answered. “I just needed a break from things. With Hannah gone, it's been difficult finding someone to replace her to run things in Heaven.” 

“They still pushing you for the job?” 

“Some factions are. Others are quite adamant that I'm not to be trusted with that much power,” he said, looking away. “I can't say they aren't right. That, and I don't want it. Heaven isn't my home anymore.” 

“Their loss, really. You're better than those winged dicks, anyways.”

Cas smiled slightly at Dean. “There was a time when that label would have applied to me, as well.” 

“Yeah, but you've been around us too long, you actually think for yourself and shit. Plus, you're family. You belong down here with us.” 

“Thank you Dean. Honestly, I am more comfortable here on Earth. But with things so unsettled, I feel like I owe it to my brothers and sisters to help. I'm also the highest ranking angel left, and that makes it harder to ignore my responsibilities.” 

“Seriously? There's no other, whatchamacallit?” Dean looked at him with one eyebrow cocked in surprise. 

“Seraph. No, between my systematic slaughter of my brothers and sisters when I was full of souls, to Metatron's purge of those who didn't support him, there are no angels of my rank or higher left,” Cas said sadly. 

“Shit, man, I'm sorry, I didn't know.” Dean reached out and clapped a hand on his shoulder. 

“It's alright, Dean. It's a mess of my own making. I keep making bad choices, and my brethren suffer for it.” He sighed deeply, raking his hands through his hair. “It's my penance to try and help put things to right.” 

Both men were silent for a few minutes, but when Dean realized he still had a hand on Cas' shoulder, he gave an slight cough and patted his shoulder weakly a few times, before withdrawing it completely. When he looked up at Cas, those blue eyes bored into his, and they simply stared at each other for a long time, before Dean broke, clearing his throat and picking up the remote. 

“Let's find something else to watch, huh?” he said gruffly, and started flipping channels again. 

~~

Dean had to admit the pictures that Sam had picked were good. There were two of the three of them, Sam standing in the middle of Cas and Dean, all three smiling at the camera. A few with just Dean and Sam, his arm around Sam's waist and Sam's arm thrown across his shoulders. There were a few of just Dean and Cas, either barely touching and both giving strained smiles into the camera, but Dean's heart gave a painful thump at the last picture of the two of them. It was the last picture Sam took, the two of them facing each other on the stools, smiling at each other like idiots. It was honestly the only picture that they looked like they liked each other, and as much as he wanted to be mad at Sam for taking it, he had to admit it was good. That didn't mean he wanted to admit that funny feeling he had under his breastbone, unlike when he'd admitted he liked seeing Cas in his clothes earlier. _Seriously, what the hell was up with that?_ he thought to himself. 

While the apartment was furnished, it didn't come with towels, sheets, dishes, or any of the myriad small things that make a place a home. Dean sighed, and resigned himself to another trip to the store to buy homey crap that they probably wouldn't use more than a week. Unless he smuggled it back to the bunker. He seriously considered it, as he fingered a sinfully soft down comforter that was the same color as Cas' eyes. 

“I think you should go with green,” came a voice right next to his shoulder, making him jump. 

“Dude, the hell?” he scowled, glaring at Cas. “I'm gonna put a freakin' bell on you, man.” 

“I just think the green one is a prettier color.” Unfazed by Dean's threat, he pointed to another comforter, in a bright spring green. 

“What's wrong with the blue?”

“Nothing, I just like the green.” 

“Yeah, well, you get yourself a fake apartment, and you can pick the damn color,” Dean huffed, grabbing the blue one and throwing it in the cart. 

“As your fake boyfriend, I should get a say in the color scheme, Dean,” Cas said dryly, a small smile mostly evident in the crinkling of his eyes more than his lips. 

“Dude, shut up!” Dean hissed, looking around to see if anybody overheard them. “Not cool, man.” 

“I can't help it if you have a problem with your fake homosexuality,” Cas teased, his smile growing wider.

“Dude, if I was anything, I'd be bi, because I still love the ladies,” Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes at the angel. “And you realize, that makes you just into dudes.” 

“Gender doesn't matter to me one way or the other. It's the person who is attractive to me, not what genitalia they have,” Cas stated matter-of-factly.

Dean stared at him for a moment. “Seriously?” 

“Yes, Dean.”

“So, it honestly doesn't matter to you. Dude could have, like a John Holmes dick, and that wouldn't bother you in the least.” 

Cas frowned at that. “I'm not sure what that means, but no, my partner having a penis wouldn't bother me. I would be more worried about what kind of person they were, the purity of their soul.” 

Dean frowned at that for a moment. “That doesn't explain that reaper that tried to kill you.” 

“Dean,” Cas sighed. “I wasn't an angel then, I was starving, freezing, and she was kind to me. I couldn't have possibly known her motives without my grace. I had to, like humans do, trust that she was nothing more than what she seemed.” 

“Point taken,” Dean nodded. “So, I gotta ask, have you, you know...with a dude?” 

“Not yet, no.” 

“But you would?”

“If the opportunity presented itself, I might, yes. Is there a reason you're asking?” 

Holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender, Dean laughed. “No, man, just trying to understand. I mean, when Zachariah sent me to the future, future you was pretty into the ladies.” 

“But didn't you tell me there were orgies there, and that I was a big part of them?”

“Yeah?” 

Cas smirked at him then, the son of a bitch. “Then how do you know there weren't men involved? Or that your future self wasn't involved?” 

The bastard laughed, then, full on laughed, as Dean choked on air and wheezed and coughed, sputtering. That's how Sam found them, Cas doubled over in laughter while Dean, red as a beet, tried to remember how to breathe. 

“The hell, guys? Dean, are you okay?” he asked, brow furrowed in confusion as he put a hand to Dean's shoulder. “Cas?” he asked, starting to smile in spite of himself at the angel's laughter. “What's so funny?” 

“I merely reminded Dean that there is more to attraction then gender or sex,” Cas answered, still chuckling as he straightened. “I think he's having trouble processing the concept.” 

“Fuck you, Cas,” Dean wheezed, grabbing the cart and pushing it aggressively away from both men. “Buncha dicks, that's what I'm working with,” he shot over his shoulder, heading for the kitchen appliances. 

“Seriously man, what did you say to him?” Sam asked.

Cas smile slowly faded, and Sam winced inwardly. “He has a hard time believing that I could find anything other than women attractive. So when he brought up his time in the alternate 2014, and the me from that time's penchant for orgies, I asked him if it had occurred to him that there would have more than likely been men there, as well, and implied that his alternate self might have been a willing participant.” 

Sam's eyes went wide, his jaw dropping open. “Holy shit,” he laughed, “No wonder he looked like he swallowed a lemon.” 

Cas sighed. “As humorous as it was, I'm afraid I've possibly hurt our ability to work together on this case.” 

“Nah, man, you know how Dean is, give him about ten minutes and some pie and his attitude will do a 180. It'll be fine, you'll see.” Sam clapped him on the shoulder twice, and smiled at him. 

Cas gave him a tentative smile back. “Thank you, Sam.”

“No problem. So, let's go find where Dean went off to pout, huh?” Smiling at Cas, Sam turned and walked in the direction Dean had taken with Cas following silently behind, a thoughtful expression on his face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the irregular updates! Going to try and get on a schedule. I'll shoot for once a week, for now, since I have about a four chapter buffer going on right now. Anyways, enjoy, and comments and kudos make my heart happy. :)

A few days later, it was moving day. Or, as Dean liked to call it, 'shove all the fake stuff into boxes and haul it up four flights of stairs' day. They'd picked up a surprising amount of stuff at the store, and it actually took longer than he would have thought to lug all the boxes inside. He and Sam both kept having to tell Cas not to take so many boxes at a time. 

“But Dean, it makes more sense to carry more and make less trips.” 

“Yeah, Cas, but normal people can't carry twelve boxes full of crap up four flights of stairs.” 

“This would have been much easier if you had just let me take everything at once,” Cas grumbled, frowning at Dean. 

“Cas, it wouldn't have been good for his cover, we had to be seen moving stuff in, remember?” Sam said, wiping sweat from his brow. 

“This is just very tedious,” Cas grumped, setting his last load of boxes down in the kitchen. 

“Amen to that,” Dean sighed. He felt grimy and in need of a shower, but he'd have to find the box with the damn towels in it first. 

“So, beer and pizza?” Sam asked, pulling out his phone. 

“That sounds amazing,” Dean grinned, giving his little brother a thumbs up. “Cas?”

Cas looked up from where he'd been staring off into space. “Yes, Dean?”

“You okay, buddy? Kinda spaced out there. Gonna get pizza and beer, you gonna stick around for a bit?” Dean asked him, a slight frown on his face. 

“Yes, sorry, was just listening to Angel Radio.” 

“Everything okay?” Sam asked. 

“Yes, just still the different factions striving for dominance. Nothing I have to personally see to at the moment, however. But I like to keep an ear out, just in case.” Cas smiled at both the brothers. “It's fine.” 

“Okay, man, if you're sure,” Dean said, still giving the angel a look of concern. 

“Yes, Dean, I'm sure, but thank you.” 

“So, you orderin', Sammy, or what? I'm feelin' meat lovers!” he announced, rubbing his hands together with glee. 

Rolling his eyes, Sam countered, “How about half and half?” 

Groaning good naturedly, Dean cried, “Sammy, you kill me with your rabbit food.” He grinned as his brother gave him his patented Sam Winchester bitch face. “Fine, fine, I was just teasin'. Order already, I'm starving!” 

Shaking his head, Sam started punching in numbers for a local pizza joint they'd found earlier in the week. While he ordered, Dean looked at Cas and jerked his head toward the door. “Beer run, wanna go with?”

“If you wish, Dean,” Cas answered. 

“It's not if I wish, dork, it's if you wanna go. You don't have to, you know.” 

Cas paused for a moment, and blue eyes met green. After a long moment, Cas nodded. “Yes, I'd like to go.” 

“Ah, great,” Dean said, feeling the tips of his ears redden, and covered it with a half laugh. He never understood why they always got caught in those long, drawn out stare downs, but it was always just this side of embarrassing. “Let's go. Sam! Going for the beer, be right back,” he called over his shoulder, heading for the door. 

Trooping down the stairs in silence, Dean waited until they were in the car before he spoke. “You sure you're okay? You've kinda been hangin' around like somebody kicked your dog, or something.” 

“I don't have a dog, Dean,” Cas stated, looking out the passenger window. 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, figure of speech, Cas, we've talked about this. Now, seriously, what's up? Because you seem a little...off.” 

“I'm fine.” It was said quickly, and Cas still looked out the window. 

“Bullshit.” 

“It's nothing of import, Dean.” 

“Now I _know_ you're lying,” Dean said, reaching over to poke Cas in the arm. “Talk to me, man.” 

Cas was silent the rest of the way to the liquor store. Dean put the car in park, and looked at Cas, waiting. 

“I...I don't know how to say it,” Cas said hesitant, looking down at his clasped hands in his lap. 

“Usually starting at the beginning is a good place.” 

He looked over at Dean then, and he frowned. “It's not always that simple, Dean.” 

“Sure it is. But for a second, let's say it's not. Tell me why you called me earlier.” 

“I could have just been calling to talk,” Cas said softly, looking back down at his lap. 

“Yeah, but we both know that's bullshit, so try again.” 

“I...wasn't entirely truthful about what I heard on Angel Radio earlier,” Cas said softly. “The part about the factions is true. But, they were discussing...me.” 

“What about you, Cas?” Dean frowned. “Are you in trouble again?” 

“No, not really. It's just, there is still much anger and resentment towards me in Heaven. Not that I blame them, not really. I harbor no illusions about my part in the downfall of the angels and what's happened. But there are certain factions, who feel that no matter how much I want to atone, to make amends, that I shouldn't be allowed anywhere near Heaven. There are even a few who have talked about cutting me off from Heaven altogether.” The last was spoken so softly, Dean almost didn't hear it. 

“They want to do what? How would that even be possible?” Dean said, his voice warm with the first threads of anger. 

“They could simply cut me off from the Host. I wouldn't lose what power I had, but as I used it it wouldn't replenish. However, some want to make it more...permanent." At this Cas took a deep breath, before letting it out. "They would have to take my grace.” 

Dean reached out and grabbed Cas' shoulder. “No fuckin' way, Cas. Not without a fight. I'll be damned before I let those junkless wonders hurt you like that.” 

Cas looked at the hand on his shoulder, and then looked up at Dean. His eyes were sad, immeasurably so. “It would be no less than I deserve.” 

“Fuck that! That's fuckin' bullshit, Cas, and you know it. You are better than any of those winged fuckers, and that's that,” Dean spat, his grip almost painfully tight on Cas' shoulder. “I don't wanna hear that from you, ever, okay?”

“My not saying it doesn't make it less true, Dean.” 

Dean looked at him for a long moment, anger creasing his face. “You listen to me. You are worthy. You are good, and worthy, and you're worth more than the whole fuckin' host of Heaven. Not a single one of those dicks has been through what you've been through, and you're still here, you're still fighting, trying to do the right thing. Yeah, you've fucked up a few times, but hell, we have too. So don't you give up on me, dammit.” 

Cas was quiet, studying Dean intently. Finally, a small smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “Thank you, Dean. That means a lot to hear you say it.” 

Dean squeezed Cas' shoulder once more, before dropping his hand. “Yeah, well, I don't spend a damn year in Purgatory looking for just anybody,” he groused, taking the keys out of the ignition. “We good?” he asked, one eyebrow raised as he grabbed for the door handle. 

“Yes, Dean, we are.” 

“Good talk,” Dean nodded, getting out of the car and slamming the door behind him. 

~~

“Dude, no, what the hell's wrong with you?” 

“Seriously, Dean, Star Wars is supremely overrated.” 

“Fuck you man, Star Wars is a cinematic masterpiece!” 

“It's a rip off of a bunch of other works, and Lucas got lucky,” Sam grinned, taking a swig of beer. 

“Cas, seriously man, I know Metadouche put all that pop culture stuff in your head, you have to have an opinion.” 

“I only know enough to get the references you make, mostly. I've never actually seen it,” Cas answered, taking a sip of his own beer. 

“Shit, we'll have to fix that,” Dean crowed. “And that means I win and we're watching Star Wars. But not the crappy prequels, we're starting with the real first one.” 

Sam groaned good naturedly, but his grin meant he wasn't really all that upset. They'd finished off all the pizza, and had gotten the DVD and TV set up in record time. It'd just been a matter of deciding what to watch. Dean started humming the Imperial March as he put the DVD in, and grabbed the remote as he sat back down on the couch next to Cas. 

“You're gonna love it, man, it's awesome,” he said, elbowing Cas in the ribs. 

“Or you'll be bored ten minutes in,” Sam said, snickering from his chair next to the couch. 

Dean, however, was the winner, because Cas loved Star Wars. He'd been absolutely riveted to the screen from the slow crawl of words at the beginning, to the ending credits. He'd even shushed Dean when he'd tried to tell him things about the movie, which made Dean sulk for a few minutes before he, too, got lost in the movie. After the first one was over, Cas asked if they could watch the second one, and then the third one. By the time the credits rolled on the third movie, Sam was snoring in the chair, long legs sprawled out in front of him. Dean had fallen asleep against Cas, his head on his shoulder. Cas looked down at Dean, his cheek warm against his skin. His breath was slow and steady, and his face was peaceful in slumber. Cas felt that warm fluttering feeling behind his breastbone, the one he'd always come to associate with Dean. Looking down, he could see the dusting of freckles across Dean's nose and cheeks, see the individual lashes fanned out, the tips seeming to gleam golden in the light. 

Slowly, hoping not to wake Dean, he slowly moved his arm, shifting so that Dean was cradled in against his chest, with Cas' arm around him. Dean snuffled gently at the change in position, but didn't wake. With Dean's head now against his chest, Cas allowed his own to rest on Dean's, his nose buried in his hair. Dean always smelled like leather and gun oil, but this was the first time he'd been close enough to smell the gel he used. It smelled kind of spicy, but pleasant. He sighed gently. He knew he was taking advantage here, but he selfishly didn't care. He'd wanted to hold Dean in his arms for so long now, and Dean falling asleep against him gave him the perfect excuse. He'd take this little time, and hope that Dean would forgive him later. He sighed again, closing his eyes, and just listened to Dean's breaths, the rise and fall of his chest against his side. 

Cas didn't know how much time had passed, but he felt something stirring in the air. He tried to sit up, but it was like iron bands had wrapped around him, making his limbs heavy and his senses dull. He struggled to keep his eyes open, and tried to call out to Dean, to Sam, but all that came out was a hoarse croak, before he slipped into darkness. 

~~

“Cas? Cas, man, c'mon, wake up.” 

Groaning, Cas rubbed his face, sitting up with Dean's assistance. “Dean? What happened?” He looked around, confused. Instead of the couch, he was sitting on the ground, in what looked like a forest. Sunlight was slanting through the trees, and he spotted Sam off to the side, holding up his cell phone, searching for signal. 

“Nothing, Dean. I don't know where we are, but I've got no signal whatsoever,” Sam sighed. Walking back, he smiled at Cas. “You okay? I didn't think there was much that could knock out an angel.” 

“There isn't,” Cas frowned. 

“What's the last thing you remember?” Dean asked. 

Cas almost said, _holding you_ but he stopped. “I remember we finished the last Star Wars movie. I felt...something...but I'm not sure what it was, but I'd imagine it felt like being drugged.”

“Drugged?” Sam asked, frowning. 

“My limbs got heavy, and I felt like I couldn't move. Suddenly everything went black.” He looked up at both brothers. “The next thing I knew I was here with you two.” 

Dean and Sam glanced at each other, both frowning. Dean looked down at Cas, then, and held out a hand to help him to his feet. “Well, this is apparently what's been going on with the other disappearances. Cas, you getting anything here?” 

Cas frowned, brushing pine needles and dirt from his pants. “No. And I'm feeling...blocked.” 

“Blocked?” Sam asked. 

“Yes...I can feel my grace, but it's, muted, somewhat.” 

“So, what, you're powered down?” Dean said. 

“Essentially, yes.” 

“Fuck,” Dean swore. “There goes our ace in the hole.” 

Cas glowered at him. “Sorry to be such a disappointment.” 

Dean had the grace to look chagrined. “Cas, man, I didn't mean it like that,” he sighed. 

“Yes, you did, Dean, but it's fine,” Cas answered, in a voice that said it was clearly anything but fine. 

Sam rolled his eyes at the two of them. “As awesome as watching you two is, I think we need to do something productive, like figure out where the hell we are?” 

“Fine,” Dean spat, raking a hand through his hair. He stomped through the brush, swearing.

Cas and Sam shared a long look, before Sam shrugged and followed, with Cas close behind. 

They'd walked through the forest for what seemed like hours. There was what looked like a game trail that they followed, but everything around them was silent, still. No bird song, no insects buzzing, not even the crackle of small animals moving through the underbrush. 

“Does it seem unnaturally quiet to anybody else, or is it just me?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, and I don't like it,” Dean said quietly, his hand instinctively reaching for the gun at the small of his back. His brother mimicked him, pulling out his own gun and easing forward cautiously. Cas, not to be outdone, twitched his wrist, his angel blade landing in his palm. The three eased through the woods, watching all around them. Dean pushed through a scrubby brush and stopped dead. 

“Uh, guys?”

Sam and Cas crowded around on either side. “Dude, is that what I think it is?” Sam breathed quietly. 

“Where the hell are we, that we find a friggin' medieval castle in the middle of the damn woods?” Dean said, looking first at Sam, and then at Cas. 

“I am unable to sense where we are, but in all my travels throughout the earth, I don't remember any such castles,” Cas said, frowning. 

The castle itself was a thing of beauty, seemingly carved from solid marble that sparkled in the sunlight. Graceful towers decorated the upper levels, with small colored flags flying from the tips. It looked like something from a fairy tale, complete with guard towers and banners adorning the walls. All around the base of the castle though, obscuring the bottom half, was a thick maze of growth. While the top part of the castle seemed to glow in the morning rays, the thick growth seemed preternaturally dark, as if the sunlight refused shine there. 

“Something seems really wrong here,” Sam mutters. 

“Yeah, well, unless you can think of a better idea, looks like the only way to go is forward,” Dean growled. 

He led the way, cautiously. As they got closer, he found that it wasn't just overgrowth that surrounded the bottom of the castle. It was thorns. Dense and overgrown, some of the branches were as wide as a full grown man, with thorns several feet long.  
“Jesus,” Dean breathed, looking up at the towering thicket of thorns. As they neared the base, the thorns extended high above their heads, blocking out the sun. 

“Now what?” Sam asked. 

“I may be able to find a way through,” Cas said thoughtfully, looking up at the tangle of thorns. Slowly, he approached a thick branch, and laid his hand on it. With a sickening creak, the branch seemed to curl in on itself, moving away and opening up a small passageway. As Sam and Dean watched, a tunnel of sorts opened up in front of them, leading to the front of the castle. With a gasp, Cas let go, and slumped, his forehead beaded with sweat and his face pale. 

“Cas!” Dean shouted, reaching out to grab the angel before he could hit the ground. 

“It's fine, Dean, it simply took more power than I expected,” Cas gasped as he sagged against him, his breathing ragged. 

“Dammit, Cas, I thought you said your powers didn't work here,” Dean spat, frowning as he wiped sweat from the angel's brow. 

“I said my grace was muted, not that it was gone. I'm cut off from Heaven here, but I still have some power. But that took more than I expected.” Cas gave a deep sigh, and gently pushed away Dean's hand. “I'll be fine in a moment.” 

With a groan, Cas pushed himself away from Dean, and stood straight. “Let's go,” he growled, staggering through the tunnel he made.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this one a little early since I got another chapter done last night. As always, unbeta'd, so any mistakes are mine and mine alone. If you like where this is going, please comment/leave kudos! It really brightens my day. :)

The trip through the thorns seemed to last forever. Even with the path Cas had cleared, they still found themselves tripping over roots, thorns catching on their clothes, hands, and in Sam's case, his hair. Dean had laughed himself silly over that one, while Sam shot him dirty looks as Cas patiently untangled his hair from a wayward thorn. They were all hot, sweaty, and scratched by the time they got to the castle wall. 

“I know this is kinda random, but does anything about this seem familiar to you guys?” Sam asked, looking up at the open gate. 

“In what way would this be familiar, Sammy? Not like we've spent a lot of time at castles, unless you did some freaky stuff at Stanford that I don't know about.” 

“I dunno, Dean, it just seems like there's something about this that's familiar, but I can't put my finger on it.” 

“It's still so quiet,” Cas remarked, looking up at the castle walls. “It seems that the place is empty.” 

“Yeah, well, we're probably walking right into a trap, but unless you two have a better idea, I wanna head inside and look around. Who knows, maybe this is where all those missing people went?” Dean said, rolling his shoulders and pulling his gun again. With a last look at the others, he led the way across the drawbridge and under the gate. 

Beyond the gate was a large courtyard. It contained several statues, stone and marble likenesses of what looked like soldiers and knights, to servants and merchants. It was like stepping into a painting, as all the figures looked like they'd been carved in the act of moving, as if at any moment they might spring to life and resume whatever action they'd been doing previously. 

“Okay, this is seriously creepy,” Sam shivered. “For a place that looks abandoned, this place is suspiciously clean. And does anybody else feel like they're being watched, or is it just me?” 

It was true. Other than the monstrous growth outside the walls, there was no stray weeds or plant life. No dust or dirt gathered anywhere on surfaces or the statues themselves. 

“I dunno about Cas, but I feel it too. Maybe we should split up, take a look around,” Dean said, looking around the courtyard. 

“I don't know if that's a good idea, Dean. We don't know what we're dealing with, and this place is pretty big. I think we need to stick together for now,” Sam replied. 

Dean thought for a minute, chewing his lip. “Fair enough,” he finally said, nodding. He pointed toward a wooden door directly across from them that was slightly ajar. “Let's start there. See what we can see.” 

They crossed the courtyard cautiously, weapons still drawn, three sets of eyes scanning above and around as they moved to the door. Dean looked at Sam and Cas, nodding once before throwing the door open, his back to the wall on the opposite side. Seeing the hallway was clear, he nodded again to Sam and Cas and they followed him in. Inside, room after room was the same. More statues, each posed as if caught mid-movement. Some looked like servants, others like lords and ladies. It was as if the whole castle was frozen in time. 

“Dude, I have no idea what's going on here. All I know is we've been through a pretty big chunk of this stupid castle and come up with nothing.” Dean griped, flopping down on a chair in what looked like a dining hall. 

“I don't either, but I get the feeling that we're missing something,” Sam said, rubbing a hand over his face as he dropped into a chair opposite Dean. “Cas? Any ideas?” 

Cas was thoughtful as he looked around the hall. “The only thing I can come up with is some sort of spell, but I can't feel anything that might give us a clue as to what kind we're dealing with. All I can sense is a vague buzz, but nothing else helpful. The only thing I can tell you is that it's not magic that you're used to; this feels old, very old.” 

“What do you mean, Cas?” Sam asked. 

“This feels like some of the ancient Enochian magic, but I can't be sure.” 

“Well, that definitely narrows down the suspect pool, doesn't it?” Sam looked at Dean. “You don't think this would be Rowena's handiwork, do you?” 

“Rowena has never done anything this old, even with the Book of the Damned,” Cas answered. “To my knowledge, she has never done anything dealing with Enochian magic. I'm afraid this could be a rogue angel.” 

“Well, fuck,” Dean sighed. “So, what now?” 

“We might need to look around again, search for any kind of weird symbols or sigils,” Sam said. “Think it's safe to split up? This place is huge, and we'd cover more ground that way. And honestly, so far all we've found are those creepy statues.” 

Dean hesitated. While Sam had a valid point, there was just something so eerie about this place, he was reluctant to separate, especially given the size of the castle. He chewed on his lip for a moment, before deciding. “All right, but fifteen minute intervals, we meet back here, no excuses, no exceptions, capiche? And we go in directions, to make it easier to find each other. If your hallway has a left and a right turn, take the left first. After we've met back here, then you go right.” 

The other men nodded their assent, and they spread out, Dean taking the left, Sam taking the right, and Cas going up the center hallway. When the pathways branched out, they all exchanged a look at each other. 

“Fifteen minutes,” Dean reiterated, before turning down to the left. As he moved, he kept his eyes peeled for any kind of sigils or wardings, or any other out of place symbols on the walls or the decorations. He still felt that nagging itch of being watched, but although he strained, the only sounds his ears heard were the scrape of his footsteps against stone and his own breath. He kept an eye on his watch as he cleared room after room, and at about the ten minute mark, he started to turn and go back. He hoped his brother and the angel had better luck than he had. 

He met back up with Cas and Sam in the dining room. “Anything?”

“Nothing,” sighed Sam, brushing his hair back from his face in irritation. 

“I didn't see anything, but I thought I felt something,” Cas said thoughtfully. “I didn't get far enough to be sure, but it seemed the buzz I felt earlier was stronger before I had to turn back.” 

Sam eyed his brother. “Maybe we should all go in that direction. It's the best lead we've had so far today.” 

Nodding, Dean gestured with one hand. “Lead the way, Cas.” 

Cas took them back up the center aisle. At each fork, as Dean had instructed earlier, he took the left passage. After about ten minutes, he paused and looked at the brothers. “Here is where I started to feel the buzzing more strongly,” he said. “Do you want to go further?” 

“Yeah, but let's go slow, don't wanna just run head first into something nasty,” Dean said, pulling his gun. 

Nodding, Cas continued on. Dean frowned when he noticed that Cas' shoulders were jerking slightly, and his whole body seemed to be twitching slightly. “Cas, buddy, are you okay?” 

“I'm fine, Dean,” Cas said between gritted teeth. “The buzzing feels more like it's biting along my skin now.” He looked back at the brothers. “Can't you feel it?” He frowned as both of them shook their heads. “Curious,” he muttered, before turning to push on. 

“Cas, if it gets to much for you, you can stop, and we can go check it out,” Sam said, his eyes still searching the walls and ceilings. 

“If neither of you can sense this, it would do you little good. You could take a wrong turn and miss it completely. It is merely uncomfortable, but bearable for now.” He paused then, and looked into a doorway on the right. “I know you said to take all lefts, but the power I feel is coming from up there,” he pointed. 

Dean and Sam looked through the doorway. A set of stone steps spiraled upward. “We must be in one of the towers,” Sam said, craning his neck to look up. 

“So up we go,” Dean said, and gestured Cas to lead the way once more. “But if it gets too much, Cas, just stop. We'll figure it out.” 

“I will, Dean.” 

Cautiously, the three men wound their way up the stairs. Other than the occasional arrow slit windows dotting the walls, they were naked stone, no decoration or carvings whatsoever. At the top of the stairs was another wooden door, this one shut. By now, Cas was in definite discomfort now, his face creased with pain and his shoulders still twitching, like he was being hit with several small electric shocks. 

“It's...very strong now,” Cas gasped, breathing hard like he'd run a race. “Behind that door.” 

Dean motioned for Cas to step back, and he and Sam edged towards the door. Looking at each other for a heartbeat, Dean pushed open the door, sweeping low while Sam cleared the door, going high. “The hell?” Dean breathed, dumbfounded by what was inside. 

The room was small, but boasted a large window that let in the last of the sun's rays, gilding the room with gold. In the center, bathed in that golden light, stood an oddly shaped device, three legs with a large wheel, and an arm off to the right. 

“Is that...a wheel?” Dean asked, as he put his gun up. “Cas, got any idea-” he stopped at Cas shoved roughly past him, his gaze fixed on the odd device. “Cas, man, what the hell,” he grumbled, then frowned. If Cas heard him at all, he gave no sign. He moved like a man underwater, slow and dreamlike, as if he were being pulled inexorably toward the object in the center of the room. 

Sam, who'd recognized the object, suddenly put the pieces together. The castle, the thorns, the frozen statues, all caught frozen in time, and now the spinning wheel, alone in a tower room. His eyes widened, it couldn't be, it wasn't possible, but, “Cas!” he shouted, lurching toward the smaller man. “No, Cas, don't touch it!” 

Too late Dean realized something was wrong, and reached out, trying to grab Cas. 

As if in slow motion, Cas turned his head towards the brothers, but his eyes were on Dean. His eyes seemed to be pleading, but his hand kept reaching towards the long arm to the right, where sparkling in the sunlight, was a long golden needle. Before either brother could reach him, Cas' finger touched the needle. A shock wave of power blew through the room, and Cas crumpled to the ground. 

“CAS!” Dean roared, skidding to a stop on his knees next to the angel. He picked up his limp form, lightly patting his cheeks. He pressed a finger to his throat, and felt a sliver of relief that he found a steady beat. 

Sam landed hard beside him. “Is he all right?” 

“I don't know, Sammy, but he's out cold,” Dean said, looking up at his brother. “What the fuck was that?” 

“I think I know where we are now,” Sam said, looking back up at the wheel. “I think...I think we're in an alternate dimension, or something.” 

“What? How?” 

“I thought all this stuff looked familiar, but I couldn't think of why. But Dean, don't you see? This is all from a fairy tale. Sleeping Beauty, to be exact.” 

“A fairy tale? Are you fucking kidding me?” Dean ran a hand through his hair. “How the hell are we trapped in a fairy tale, Sam, they're not real!” 

“Maybe not in our reality. But remember when Balthazar sent us to that other reality, where we were actors playing ourselves for a TV show? This really isn't all that different than that, Dean.” 

“But it makes no sense. Why here? Why now? And how are we gonna fix Cas?” 

Sam bit his lip, clearly hesitating. 

“What, Sammy, if you've got an idea, spit it out already!” 

“You're not gonna like it,” Sam said finally. He looked down at Cas' still form. “Let's get him downstairs first, and then I'll tell you about it.” 

~~

“So you're telling me, the only way to wake up Cas, who is a _dude_ ,” he spat, pointing at Cas' lifeless body lying on the table, “is friggin' true love's kiss? That's such bullshit.” 

Sam watched his brother pace from his chair at the table. “If I'm right about the fairy tale thing, Dean, it's the only thing that makes sense. That's how Aurora was woken from the spell in the original story.” 

“Yeah, 'cept Cas doesn't HAVE a true love conveniently here.” 

“You sure about that?” Sam asked quietly. 

Dean paused, and gave his brother an odd look. “Unless you're harboring some secret crush on Cas that I don't know about...” he trailed off, raising his eyebrows. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Never said I was talking about me, dumbass.” 

It took a minute for the implication to sink in. Suddenly, Dean's eyes widened, and he started the sputter. “The hell! I don't, I never, I AM NOT INTO GUYS, SAM,” he shouted, throwing his arms out wide. 

“Never said you were, Dean. But c'mon, even you have to admit that there's more to you and Cas than just friendship.” 

Dean leaned forward, and poked his brother hard in the chest. “He's more than a friend, he's family, but that doesn't mean I wanna play tonsil hockey!” 

“Doesn't it? I seem to recall you telling him once, and I quote, 'Cas, not for nothing, but the last time someone looked at me like that...I got laid'. And he kept right on looking at you, and you looked back at him, and it was a very uncomfortable five minutes for me, Dean, while you two stared at each other like love-sick tweens.” 

“Fuck you, Sammy, that totally did not happen.” 

“Psh, whatever, dude, I get that you have this big macho alpha male thing going on, but seriously, that doesn't change anything,” Sam said calmly, leaning back and crossing his arms. 

“There's nothing to change, dammit! Now c'mon, think, there's gotta be another way. A spell, or something.” 

“Even if there was, where do you want me to look? Our research library is back at the bunker, and we have no way to access it right now. Pretty sure they don't have internet in this reality, either. So unless there are some Enochian spell books hidden away in the library somewhere, I don't know where to look.” Sam sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. “I just don't see any way around it.” 

“If you're so sure a smooch will fix the problem, how come you're not all gung ho for it, then, huh? He's your family too!” 

Sam sat back and studied his brother for a moment. “Fine. But if I do it, and it doesn't work, then you have to man up and take one for the team.” 

“Wait, what?” Dean choked out, rising panic in his voice. “Hold on, now, seriously?

“Dead serious. If I can do this for my friend, someone I call family, then you can too.” Sam pinned his brother with a steely glare. 

“But he's a dude!” 

“I'm aware of that, Dean. But it's _Cas_. He's given up so much for you, for me. Are you seriously going to leave him like this because you're too scared?”

“I'm not a fuckin' coward!” Dean spat. 

“Then prove it!” Sam yelled, shoving to his feet, the chair screeching across the stone floor. “Quit being a goddamn asshole and save your friend!”

Dean and Sam stood almost nose to nose, breathing ragged, angry eyes boring into each other. Dean looked away briefly, then slammed both hand into Sam's chest, knocking him back hard. 

“There's always another way. Just because that's how the story goes, doesn't mean it's how it has to be now,” Dean said quietly, fury in the taut line of his shoulders and jaw. With a last look at Cas' lifeless form, Dean spun on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him. 

Sam closed his eyes briefly, willing himself to be calm. He picked up his chair, pulling it back to the table. He studied Cas' still form, watching the rise and fall of his chest. He didn't know how long he stood there, watching Cas breathe, but after several minutes he sighed and raked his hands through his hair. He shook his head, then leaned over the angel. Up close, he could see the individual hairs of his perpetual five o'clock shadow, the small laugh lines that bracketed his eyes. He twisted his mouth in a grimace for a moment, before pressing his lips to Cas'. The angel's lips were firm, but dry, and he felt absolutely nothing. He leaned back, watching anxiously for any change, but the still form didn't move, other than the gentle sound of breath moving in and out. He sighed again, and sat back down in his chair, keeping vigil over the angel's unmoving form. 

~~

Dean wandered the hallways for hours, getting lost on purpose to give himself time to calm down. He didn't know what the hell Sammy was thinking. Him kiss Cas? How did he think that was going to work? Sure, he cared about the guy, but true love? It was ridiculous. Not to mention Cas was a dude. Dean Winchester was strictly hetero, thank you very much. _Not that there was anything wrong with dudes liking other dudes,_ he thought, _but it's not me._ He gave a bitter half laugh as he remembered something John Winchester had said on the subject. 

They'd been on a hunt in California. While stopped for gas, Dean had seen two men coming out of the store, holding hands and laughing. They smiled and said hello to Dean while he was pumping gas, and he responded in kind. After they got in their car and left, his dad had started in, mumbling under his breath about fags. 

_“Dad, there's nothing wrong with two guys dating. It's not the 50's anymore.”_

_“I don't give a damn what other people do. No son of mine is gonna be a fuckin' faggot. If I even THINK that you or your brother is a pole smoker, I will beat you within an inch of your life. Do I make myself clear, son?”_

_“Yes, Dad.”_

_“Good. And if you don't stop babyin' Sammy so much, he's gonna end up just like those cock smokes over there.”_

_“I will, sir.”_

Dean sighed, and opened up another door. “Well, I'll be damned,” he breathed. He hadn't really been looking for it, but he'd found the library. Floor to ceiling windows on the opposite wall let in a generous amount of light, but every other wall was dedicated to shelves upon shelves of books. There were even those ladders that were on rails, that allowed you to reach the uppermost shelves of books. 

As he turned a slow circle, whistling softly, he almost jumped out his skin when a voice behind him said quietly, “Hello, Dean.” 

As quick as a thought he had his gun pulled and pointed at the stranger. “Okay, who the fuck are you and how do you know my name?” 

“Dean, I'm surprised you don't recognize me. Although, I'll admit, the last time we saw each other, I looked quite a bit...different.” The man was close to Dean's height, with brown hair and brown eyes. A pleasant enough face, but one that five minutes after seeing you'd be hard pressed to remember what it looked like. 

“Answer the question, asshole,” Dean snarled. “I'm not having the best day.” 

The stranger clasped his hands behind his back, and slowly walked a circle around Dean, who moved with him, keeping his gun sighted on the other man. “No, I'd suppose you aren't. It must have been quite the shock, waking up here, hmm? Normally, I only bring one at a time, but when you three were all in the apartment at the same time, I just couldn't resist! I knew that eventually the vaunted Winchesters would come eventually, but I'll admit that bringing the angel with you was an added bonus.” 

“Cut the crap! Who are you, and what are we doing here?” 

“So stubborn, even now. I was watching you, you know. You and your brother. He's right you know, you could have saved your dear Castiel by now if you weren't so prideful.” 

“Is that so?”

“It is so,” the man said smoothly, a small smile gracing his face. “You had a part to play, again, and again, you refuse. Even when it's to your detriment.” 

“A part to play? The hell are you talking about? This isn't a goddamn game!” 

“A game? No, that was always my brother's department. He always loved his little jokes and games, but you know what I always loved? Fairy tales. It's one of the few things I appreciated about humanity, the ability to create stories where good triumphs over evil, where the outcomes are fixed and the heroes always defeat the villains. At one time, I fancied myself the hero of a story. I was to participate in an epic battle, the fate of the world on my shoulders. All I needed was one man, one mortal, to play his part. But that man refused, refused me, and the world was almost lost.” 

Dean stopped, a trickle of fear rippling up his spine. 

The other man stopped when Dean did, and gave him a smirk. “You were my perfect vessel. The combination of bloodline after bloodline, all culminating in you achieving your destiny and helping create paradise on Earth.” 

“No, you can't be, you're supposed to be in the cage,” Dean breathed, his eyes wide. 

He gave Dean a beatific smile. “When the Darkness was released, I was able to escape. It took me awhile to regain my power, but I knew what I had to do. I still have a mission to complete, my own fairy tale to enact. And for that, I need you.” 

“I already said no to you before, Michael, what makes you think I'll change my mind?” 

“Because I know you, Dean. I know you intimately. I know you care deeply for Castiel. But you're too afraid to admit to yourself just how deeply, and therefore you won't allow yourself to take the easy route to be his salvation. Even now, even here, it's still about choice. However,” he said, holding up one finger, “As you said, there is another way.” 

“Yeah, and what's that, I say yes to you and you ride me like a cheap whore? Thanks, but no thanks.” 

“You say yes to me, and I can break the spell. Without true love's kiss, I might add.” 

“If you can do that, why do you need me?” 

“What reason do I have to save Castiel? Yes, he is my brother, but he defied me. He helped you escape and stopped the battle between Lucifer and myself. For his disobedience, he should be put to death. However, if you say yes to me, I will save him. I will strip him of his grace, so that he cannot be a hindrance to me, but he will live. After all, I cast the spell that brought you to this world, and I am the only one who can undo it.” 

“Not happening, no deal. You say you're offering a choice, but it's a lie. I either give up myself and lose Cas and my brother, or I say no and lose Cas. Either way, I come out on the bottom. So, again, douchebag, the answer is no.” 

“I see. Well, I do have to tell you one more little detail about the spell. A trifle, really. I don't suppose you happened to notice all the lovely statues throughout the castle?” At Dean's terse nod, Michael smiled and continued. “Those are all the denizens of this fair hold, as well as those I abducted. If you say no to me, they will stay as statues, forever. Also, while our dear Castiel is as of yet unharmed, the longer he stays under the spell the quicker he will turn to stone like the others. Say yes to me, and all those under the spell will be returned to themselves, as will Castiel.” 

Dean stared at him, eyes hot with rage. 

“I will give you time to think it over. Castiel has approximately three hours before he's completely turned to stone. Meet me here before the three hours have passed with your answer.” Michael made a shooing motion with one hand, while seating himself on a plush couch. 

Dean clenched his jaw, his finger caressing the trigger guard, before he put the gun up in a rough motion. He turned to leave, but stopped, and turned back to face Michael. “Why three hours?”

“Oh, did I forget to mention? Silly me. All the humans have souls, locked away in their stone bodies. Castiel, however, doesn't have a soul. His grace is being drained away as long as the spell is active, and when the stone completely covers his body, it will be gone, and so will he.” Michael smirked at Dean, before adding, “So don't keep me waiting too long.” 

“How do you know I won't just go back there and plant one on Cas, and wake him up that way?” 

“Because I know you, Dean Winchester. And if you do manage to, what's the phrase, 'man up' and try it, you might find it may not have the effect you think it will.” Michael made a sweeping gesture with one hand. “But by all means, try it. But time is ticking.” 

Dean scowled at the archangel, seriously tempted to shoot him on principle, even though it would do nothing. Gritting his teeth, he turned away and went out the door, heading back towards Sam and Cas.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was late! I'm dealing with some writer's block, so I forgot to post this chapter yesterday. Enjoy, and as always, kudos and comments make me smile. :)

Dean paused at the door to the dining hall. He knew he should go in, tell Sammy what he'd found out. Hell, he might even try planting one on Cas, just to see if Michael was right. Strangely, the thought didn't bother him as badly as he thought it would. But with Cas, it was different. At first, the dorky little guy had bothered him, always standing so close, it had been creepy. Gradually, it wasn't a big deal any more, it was just something Cas did. Just like the casual touches between them. Shit, even the longer than usual stares between them. It'd been uncomfortable at first, but it just ended up being their thing. Shaking his head, he pushed open the door. 

Sam looked up as he walked in. He opened his mouth to say something, but Dean held up a hand, forestalling any conversation. Dean walked to the edge of the table and stood, staring at Cas. As of now, he looked much like he always did; if he'd started to turn to stone Dean couldn't tell. His face was relaxed, his breathing steady and even, as if in slumber. As if he would pop open those big blue eyes of his at any moment, and say, 'Hello, Dean'. Finally, he looked at Sam. “Can you give me a minute, Sammy?” 

His brother opened his mouth to say something, but then seemed to think better of it, before nodding and moving toward the door. Dean nodded his thanks, then turned back to Cas as the door shut behind his brother. Idly, he straightened one side of his collar, which had gotten flipped up somehow. He was still wearing Dean's clothes from the move. He licked his suddenly dry lips, fully aware he was stalling. He rubbed a hand over his face, sighing deeply. “Fuck,” he said softly, before bending over Cas' still form. He was close, so close now, he could feel Cas' breath on his face, could smell his scent. Cas always smelled like cinnamon and watermelon, an odd combination that Dean had never been able to figure out, but secretly always liked. He'd have cut off his own tongue before admitting that out loud, though. _This is so, so fucked up,_ he thought, knowing he was stalling. Swallowing hard, he leaned that last half inch and pressed his lips gently to the other man's. Cas' lips were surprisingly soft, warm against his own. For a moment, he thought he felt a spark, an indefinable something that leapt from Cas to him. Hardly daring to breathe, he leaned back, hoping against hope that he'd find blue eyes staring back at him. Yet when he looked down, the angel's eyes were still closed, his breathing steady. Nothing had changed. 

Dean fought down a crushing sense of disappointment. _Guess Sammy was wrong about the true love thing,_ he thought to himself bitterly. He stepped back from the table. Even if he did care for Cas, apparently it wasn't enough. He wasn't enough. He touched Cas' arm gently, stroking a finger down the sleeve of his borrowed over shirt. He turned away abruptly, heading for the door. He suddenly needed out of this room, away from yet another person he couldn't save. From another failure. He swallowed hard, needing air and space to breathe. 

Sam found him a little while later on one of the battlements, staring off into nothing. The sun had long set, but the night breezes were warm, and the stars were bright. A quarter moon hung low on the horizon. 

“You okay?” 

“Not really,” Dean answered. He could almost hear Sam's surprise at Dean's honesty, and it made him smile faintly. The small smile faded as Sam came to lean against the stone next to him. “I know why we're here.” He turned his head to look at his brother. “Michael set us up.” 

“Michael, wait, as in archangel Michael? The one who's supposed to be in the cage Michael?” Sam's eyes were wide with surprise. “How?” 

“When the Darkness got out, she broke the cage, enough that Michael was able to escape. He still wants the grudge match with Lucifer, so he set all this up to lure us here, or really, me.” 

“He still wants his vessel,” Sam breathed. 

“Yeah. All this,” he waved his hand, “is a bid to get me to say yes.” 

“But what about Cas? He couldn't have known that he'd be with us.” 

“No, but apparently he was a nice bonus. His grace is tied to the spell. Touching that damn needle triggered it, and he's gonna slowly turn to stone, his grace seeping away. When his grace is gone and he's completely covered, he'll be gone, they'll be no bringing him back.” 

“Fuck,” Sam cursed. “How can we break it?” 

“I have to say yes to him, it's the only way,” Dean said quietly, looking away. 

“No, screw that, there's gotta be another way. Did you...did you try to kiss him?” The last was asked softly, hesitant.

Dean swallowed hard before answering. “Yeah. I did. I thought for a second...but nothing. It didn't work Sammy, you were wrong. So, to save Cas and get you out of here, I'm gonna have to say yes to Michael. I don't see any other way out of this.” 

“Dean, no, there's always another way, you taught me that. I learned the hard way from saying yes to Lucifer, don't do this!” 

“You think I want this?” Dean spat, anger making his movements stiff and jerky as he turned back to his brother. “You think I wanna be responsible for kicking off the end of the world, _again_? 'Cause I don't, Sam, I really don't. But I tried it your way, and it didn't work. So unless you've got an Enochian spell book in your pocket stashed away, we don't have any other options here. And I refuse to condemn Cas to death and us to be stuck here for my stupid pride.” 

“Let me ask you something, Dean, in all seriousness. What were you thinking when you kissed him?” 

“The hell kind of question is that, Sammy?” Dean made a disgusted noise. “I tried it, it didn't work, end of story!”

“It's a simple question. What were you thinking about? Were you thinking about how weird it was, or were you thinking how much it'd hurt if Cas didn't wake up?” 

“I was about to lock lips with a _dude_ , dammit, I wasn't sitting there analyzing shit. I didn't sit there and have a long mental discourse over it, I just did it. It didn't work. That's it, that's all.”

“Maybe that's the problem. You were too busy thinking how a simple kiss threatened your world view.” 

“What the fuck, Sammy?” Dean spat, incredulous. 

“You're straight, I get it. Trust me. But this thing you have with Cas, it's not really something as simple as straight or gay. He's just...” Sam paused, as if reaching for the right word. “He's just Cas. I mean, yeah, he's in a male vessel. But what if he wasn't? If he was in a female vessel, would you be having such a meltdown about it?” 

“I...” Dean stopped, and slumped. “I don't know.” 

“You know it wouldn't matter to me, if you loved him, you know. I'd be happy as long as you guys were happy.” At Dean's incredulous look, he gave his brother a half smile. “I'm not Dad, you know. I remember all the stuff he used to say, too.” 

“I don't know what to say here, Sammy. I've never really thought about it like that, never thought about him like that.” Dean's voice was soft, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the warm stone in front of him. 

“Then what _do_ you feel about him?” 

Dean groaned. “Sammy, you know I hate talking about this shit.” 

Sam scowled at his brother, crossing his arms over his chest. “This is one time where you're gonna have to suck it up, Dean.” 

“Sammy,” Dean whined. 

“Don't you 'Sammy' me, Dean. I'm gonna go check on Cas. I want you to think, and think hard, about what Cas means to you. If you don't wanna talk about it with me, that's fine, but you better be doing some inner introspective thinking. If you won't do it for me, or even yourself, then you damn well better do it for Cas.” At his brother's glare, Dean gave a weak nod. 

As Sam headed downstairs, Dean looked back up at the stars overhead. He thought back to the first time he'd met Cas. A small smile turned up the corners of his mouth. He'd been scared shitless when Cas had walked in, lights exploding all over the place, just wandering through that barn like he was out for a midnight stroll. How he'd shivered when that gravel over silk voice had rumbled, 'I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition'. Those first few times he'd been around Cas, he'd felt so out of his depth, because Cas had seemed so ethereal. He'd honestly felt unworthy to be in the angel's presence, with the memories of Hell still so fresh in his mind. He smiled again, thinking of how he'd seemed to have such a stick up his ass at first. Then, he started to change. To think for himself, to refuse to march in lockstep with the rest of the feathered dicks. The more he hung around the brothers, the more his own awkward, nerdy persona came out, and it was kinda cute. 

He wasn't sure when things started to change. When Cas was less of an ally, and more of a friend, then family. But when Cas walked into that water, with all of the Leviathans inside of him, it broke him. He'd mourned, and grieved, carrying that damn trench coat with him everywhere. The shock of seeing him again, as Emmanuel. Losing him again, in Purgatory, spending a year searching, cutting a bloody swath to find him. So many times, losing him only to find him again. Now he was faced with an impossible choice, and he could lose him no matter how he chose. 

Then there was that fucking spark. He knew he didn't imagine it. He'd never thought about Cas that way before, it was true. But since he'd kissed those still lips, felt that little zing, it seemed like he could still feel it. A part of him wondered what it would have felt like if it'd worked, if Cas would have kissed him back. What if Cas would have been repulsed? Or looked at him with that inscrutable look, as if Dean had done something unfathomably stupid. Either way, it wasn't a pretty thought. Besides, the fact that Cas still slept proved just how unworthy Dean really was. He'd been foolish to think that he could save him. 

And what if Cas did feel something in return? How would that even work? Dean wasn't sure, even if he could get out the words, if the physical part would happen. Kissing was one thing, but physical contact might be a deal breaker. That was even supposing that Cas was into that. As far as Dean knew, he'd only had sex with that reaper, April. Though, he was living with Daphne when he was Emmanuel, so it would stand to reason that he'd been with her as well. Although after that supremely embarrassing conversation about orgies, Dean thought maybe Cas would be into dudes. Dean rubbed his face with one hand. This was getting him nowhere. It was looking more and more likely that he was going to have to say yes to Michael, because as fucked up as his feelings were for Cas, he didn't know if it was lo- nope, not going there, even in the privacy of his own mind he wouldn't say it- his feelings weren't deep enough to save him. 

His thoughts wandered to all the times Cas had offered to stay with him, every time they thought the world was ending. Little things he would say. 'Always happy to bleed for the Winchesters.' 'I always come when you call.' Maybe, Cas was trying to say what he couldn't, in the only way he knew Dean would accept. The little touches, always making sure to grab the shoulder where his hand print used to be. He'd never admit it out loud, but he kinda missed having that mark on his shoulder. Those crushingly tight hugs, the ones where Cas always held on a little too long, his body a little too close to Dean's, and how much Dean secretly loved it. And as bad as he hated to admit Sam was right, those long fucking stares they always had. Dean sure as hell didn't do that with anybody else, Sam included. The thought of never seeing those blue eyes locked onto his anymore made his throat tight, and his heart ache. The thought of never hearing that gravelly voice, saying 'Hello Dean.' He swallowed hard, and rubbed his face again. Looking up at the moon, he whispered a promise. “I'll get you back, Cas. One way or the other.” Heaving a deep sigh, he pushed off the low wall, and headed back downstairs. 

He eased his way thought the door to the dining hall, and his heart sank. It'd been a little over two hours since he'd talked to Michael, but now he could see the change in Cas. While his breathing was still even, the process had begun, starting from his feet and up to his waist. Unlike the others in the castle, whose bodies looked like plain stone, Cas' lower half was a pure white marble, shot through with gold streaks. He met Sam's sorrowful eyes and shook his head. 

“He's running out of time, Dean,” Sam said softly. 

“I know, Sammy. About another hour, and he'll be gone.” He edged closer to the table Cas lay on, and reached out to gently touch his leg. As if his touch could shatter the illusion and make his body real again. The stone was cool but firm to the touch, and looked as if a master hand had carved the creases of his jeans, the laces of his boots. He was still wearing Dean's clothes from the night before, and Dean's heart thumped painfully at the thought. Mere inches higher, Cas' chest still moved rhythmically up and down, and Dean placed his hand over his heart, reassured by the steady beat against his palm. 

He knew he couldn't tell Sammy about saying yes to Michael. He'd have to let him think that he was going to try the kiss again, and sneak off before he realized he was gone. Whatever he felt for Cas, he knew it wasn't enough. 

“Can you give me a few minutes, here, Sam? I, uh, no offense, but don't really want an audience for this.” He locked eyes with his brother, silently pleading. 

Sam sighed, almost sounding relieved, and shoved up from his chair. “Sure Dean, I'll go, get some air or something. Take all the time you need.” He stopped briefly, and touched Cas' shoulder. “See you soon, Cas,” he said softly, then nodded at Dean before going out the door. 

Dean waited until his brother's footfalls had receded, before lowering his forehead to Cas' chest. He let the steady respiration ground him, remind him of what he was about to do, and why. “I can't lose you Cas, not again,” he whispered, feeling the first prickle of tears. “I won't.” 

He sat up slowly, and felt wetness trickle down his left cheek, and hastily dashed it away before it could fall on Cas. He cupped the side of Cas' face, slowly rubbing a thumb over his cheekbone, feeling the prickle of stubble against his palm. He closed his eyes, and felt more tears escape, and roughly scrubbed them away. With a shaky sigh, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Cas' forehead. “Take care of my little brother, Cas. He's gonna need you,” he whispered, his lips barely moving against the other man's skin. With a sharp movement, he pushed away from the table, heading for the door. As he pulled open the door, he stopped, and looked back at Cas. Taking a deep breath, he swiftly turned away and headed back to Michael to tell him of his decision.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd as always, so any boo-boos are mine and mine alone. *sets out platters of apologetic cookies for the angst*

“Hello, Dean. I trust you've thought about my offer, and come to share the good news?” Michael said cheerily as Dean entered the library. 

“I have conditions,” Dean said, crossing the floor to stand in front of the couch where Michael sat. 

Michael set aside the book he'd been reading, and crossed his legs. “Do tell,” he drawled. 

“I don't say yes until Cas is back to himself, and he and Sam and all the ones you took are home. And you don't get Cas' grace, he leaves here the same way he came in. And finally, if you even think, for one second, about going after either of them after all this, I will find a way to shove you out and you'll be without a vessel. Again.” Dean crossed his arms, fury radiating from the hunter. 

“My, so forceful. It's cute that you think you can make deals here. I'll remind you that saving Castiel and sending he and your beloved brother home were already part of the plan. If it will make it easier for you to say yes, then it's a trifle. As far as Castiel's grace...I would require some type of reassurances that he would not immediately attack me as soon as he's himself again.” He looked at Dean thoughtfully. “It would be a shame to have to kill my brother so soon after saving him.” 

“Let me take care of Cas, now do we have a deal, or not?” Dean spat. 

Michael surveyed him quietly for a moment, tapping fingers on one knee for a moment. “Very well,” he said after a long moment. 

Dean let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. “Fine. Let's go,” he said, turning toward the door. 

“But it would be so much easier to bring them here,” Michael said, and snapped his fingers. Cas now lay on a table close to Dean, the marble now spread to his upper chest, making his breathing faster and more shallow from the compression. Sam appeared slightly behind Dean, his eyes wide and his hands spread, as if to catch himself. 

“Dean!” Sam called. 

Dean held out a hand to his brother, forestalling any movement. “It's all right, Sammy, everything's fine,” he said. 

Sam looked around, and found Michael, smirking on the couch. His eyes widened with horror as comprehension dawned. “Dean, no, you can't-” he gasped. 

“It's done, Sam!” Dean yelled, cutting his brother off mid-sentence. “It's too late.” He looked at Michael. “Get on with it,” he spat, gesturing to Cas. 

Michael rolled his eyes, but snapped his fingers again. The marble disappeared, and Cas sat up suddenly, clutching his chest and gasping. Wildly he looked around, his eyes latching onto Dean's. 

“Dean!” he cried, and lurched off the table. Dean had to rush forward, catching the angel in his arms. 

“Whoa, Cas, easy now, get your sea legs back,” Dean said gently, guiding him to sit on the edge of the table. 

Cas frowned at him, and Dean smiled through a stab of pain. “Dean, we weren't anywhere near the sea.” 

“I know, Cas. I'm just glad you're back, buddy.” 

“But how? I just remember being drawn to that needle, and then everything was black.” 

“That's because I wanted you to touch it,” Michael interrupted smoothly, flicking an imaginary piece of lint from the leg of his trousers. “I needed leverage to get Dean to say yes, and you were the bigger threat to me.” 

Cas, surprised at the strange voice in the room, locked eyes with the archangel. “Michael?” he said wonderingly, eyes wide with shock. “Brother? How are you here?” 

Michael waved away his question. “It doesn't concern you, _brother_. What does concern you is that Dean has bartered for safe passage for you and his brother, plus those I have taken, back to their reality. A warning, little brother,” he said, holding up a finger as Cas scowled at him. “cross me again, and I will kill you. If you attempt to come to Heaven, I will kill you. As long as you are content to languish on Earth with these pitiful humans, and stay out of my way, I will spare you.” 

Cas started to speak, but Dean stopped him with a hand to his chest. Cas looked down at the hand, then up into Dean's eyes. 

“Cas,” Dean started, then stopped. “I need you to take care of Sammy now, okay? Can you do that for me?” 

Cas frowned at Dean, then shook his head. “No, Dean, you can't say yes to him, you can't!”

“It was the only way, Cas, I didn't have a choice. I couldn't let you die, I couldn't leave Sammy here, and all those people he took to rot in stone prisons. You would have done the same, if you were me,” Dean said gently. 

Cas tentatively put his hand over Dean's, still on his chest, as if unsure that Dean would allow the contact. “Dean,” he said softly, his eyes beseeching. 

Dean closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Gently, he tugged his hand away from Cas, before folding the angel into a hug. “Promise me, Cas, that you'll do as I ask.” 

“Dean, please don't make me do this,” Cas begged, both arms holding the other man tightly. 

“Cas, he wants to start it all up again. You have to look out for Sam, keep him away from Lucifer. Can you do that for me? Please?” he whispered, his face buried in the hollow of Cas' shoulder. 

Cas gave a long, shuddering sigh. “Yes, Dean,” he said softly. 

“Good.” Before he could stop himself, or even wonder why he did it, he kissed Cas softly on the cheek before he pulled back gently, feeling more tears trying to slip down his face. He gripped Cas' shoulder tightly one more time, before turning to his brother Sam. 

“Dean, this is stupid! We talked about this!” Sam spat, watching his brother walk slowly toward him. 

“It's done, Sam. Now come give me a hug, bitch.” 

“Jerk,” Sam said, his voice breaking as he grabbed his older brother tightly. “I will find you, and get you out of this,” he whispered, slapping his brother on the back. 

“I'll be fine, Sam. Take care of Cas, huh? You guys need to look out for each other, okay?”

Sam nodded silently, and hugged his brother once more, fiercely, before letting go and stepping back. 

Dean shrugged his shoulders, and scrubbed a hand over his face. He looked back toward Michael. “Send them home.” 

Michael smirked, but nodded, and snapped his fingers once more, and Cas and Sam were gone. 

“You sent them back? The others too?” Dean asked. 

“As promised. Now, there's just one more word I want to hear from you, Dean. One little syllable my ears have been dying to hear.” He stood, and walked to stand in front of the hunter. 

Dean closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. He opened them again, and locked eyes with Michael. “Yes.” 

Michael grinned, and a white light engulfed them both. When it had receded, the room was empty once more. 

~~

“Sam? Sam, can you hear me?” The voice sounded like it was from miles away. 

Groggily, Sam managed to pry his eyes open, and winced at the bright light. It took a moment for his vision to focus enough to see Cas leaning over him, worry in his bright blue eyes. “Are we back?”

“Yes, and so are all the others.” 

“Help me up,” Sam groaned, and let Cas pull him gently to his feet. “How many others?” 

“At least six,” the angel replied. “You're the first one to awaken.” 

“And you're okay? Still powered up, and all that?” Sam asked, as Cas helped him to one of the kitchen chairs. 

“I'm fine, Sam, wholly myself. If you're feeling well, I will start taking the missing back to their families. So many people showing up in this apartment will surely draw attention we don't currently want.” 

“Yeah, you're right. I'm good,” he said, flapping one hand at the angel. “I just need a minute.” 

“Very well, Sam.” 

Sam looked around the open area between the living room and the kitchen table where he sat. There were two men and four women lying in various positions on the floor, breathing but out cold. Cas went to the closest one, whom Sam recognized as the last man missing, and touched fingers to his forehead. He looked up briefly at Sam, before he and the other man disappeared with a rustle of invisible wings. As quickly as he left, he returned, and touched the next person. On and on, until all six were back with their families. 

“I will check the other rooms just to make sure, but I believe that is all of the missing,” Cas said quietly, touching Sam gently on the shoulder. “Are you well?” 

Sam looked up at Cas, misery showing plainly on his face. “Not really, no, but I'll make it,” he said, rubbing both hands over his face, then shoving them through his hair. 

“We will find him,” Cas said firmly, and patted his shoulder lightly before going to check the other rooms. He came back bare minutes later. “That's everyone.” 

“Good. I'm glad.” He stood up and stretched. “Now what?” 

“If I had to guess, I would think that Michael would go to Heaven first, to attempt to consolidate power there first. He'll need the support of all in Heaven if he truly wishes to start the apocalypse again.” 

“And how long will that take?” 

Cas chewed his lip as he thought. “I'm not sure. There are so many factions, now. There will be many that will flock to him, grateful to have leadership once more. But there are many who will not want to bow down to him anymore, especially those who followed Hannah, and I'm afraid it may result in war amongst the angels again.” 

“But if he's busy up there, he can't be starting crap down here, right?” 

Cas' blue eyes bored into Sam's hazel ones, and Sam fought the urge to squirm under the stare. “I do not wish more of my brothers and sisters to die,” he said quietly. “There has been enough loss among my brethren” 

“Shit, Cas, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that,” Sam winced. “I just-”

Cas held up a hand, cutting him off. “I know what you meant, Sam. But I need to try and warn them somehow.” 

“Yeah, but Michael said he didn't want you anywhere near Heaven. And Hannah is dead. Who else is left up there that you trust?” 

Cas thought hard. Finally, nodding to himself, he said a name. “Matthew.” 

“And this Matthew is someone we can trust?” 

“I believe so, yes. He worked closely with Hannah. Hannah respected him greatly, and often took him into her confidence.” 

“Okay, so how do we get a hold of them?” 

“We could try summoning them. But the quickest route might be to have you pray to him.” 

“Yeah, but would they answer, for someone they don't know?” Sam frowned. 

“I have no idea, Sam, but if prayer doesn't work then we can try summoning. My thought was simply that prayers, if invoking an angel directly, aren't able to be overheard by others. Much like when you and your brother pray to me.” 

“That makes sense, I guess. What should I say?” 

“I'm not sure if he is one of those who dislikes me. It might be better to say that you knew Hannah and you need his help.” 

“Okay.” Sam closed his eyes, and started to pray aloud. “Matthew, please, if you can hear me, I knew Hannah. I need your help, please, if you hear this.” 

“You shouldn't have called for me.” Both Cas and Sam started at the new voice behind them. 

Matthew was tall, almost as tall as Sam, but whereas Sam was muscular, Matthew's vessel was almost painfully thin. A shock of black hair framed silvery gray eyes. He was handsome, with chiseled cheekbones sharp enough to cut, and a pointed chin. He was frowning, taking in both Sam and Cas.

“If I had known you would be here, Castiel, I would not have come.” 

“Please, Matthew, we just need your help for a moment,” Sam said, showing his hands in a peaceful gesture. “We just need you to be a messenger.” 

“If your message is that Michael is back, it's too late. He's already in Heaven, attempting to reunite the factions. He's given 'the troublemakers', as he calls those of us who didn't immediately flock to his side, until tomorrow to decide where our loyalties lie,” Matthew said, crossing his arms. 

“He wants to restart the apocalypse,” Cas said. “He can't be allowed to do so.” 

“Who is left to stop him?” Matthew replied, bitter laughter following his words. “Your brother,” he pointed at Sam, “was a fool and gave Michael exactly what he needed. Before, he had to settle for an alternate vessel, using your half-brother Adam. Adequate, but not as powerful as the one bred for his use. Now, he will be impossible to stop.” He sighed, his body sagging. “And more angels will die, when we just wish to be left in peace, not fighting for a war we no longer believe in.” 

“If others feel that way, then why can't you fight? Convince the others to do the same? If Michael doesn't have the support of Heaven, he won't be able to take Lucifer,” Cas said. 

“And who would lead us? You, Castiel? The angel who, time after time, has put humans above his brothers and sisters? Who slaughtered us by the hundreds? Who helped Metatron break our wings and cast us from our home?” Matthew spat. 

Cas' eyes fell to the floor, unable to look his brother in the eye. Sam watched as the angel's shoulders sagged with each accusation. “I am no leader. I'm just a soldier, nothing more,” Cas said quietly. 

“It wasn't all Cas' fault,” Sam spoke up. “Everything he did, it was with the best of intentions.” 

“His intentions mattered little, we still burned and died at his hands.” 

“Enough!” Sam cried, scowling at Matthew. “Cas has made mistakes. But where were you? What were you doing, when Zachariah tried to force us into our roles? Where were you when Naomi was torturing other angels because they weren't doing as she wanted? What were you doing, when Metatron had Gadreel kill all the prophets?” 

“I have no interest in the affairs of Earth. My only concern is Heaven, and trying to survive.” 

Sam stared at him for a long moment. “You're a coward.” 

“Careful, hunter, without your pet, I could squash you like an insect,” Matthew warned. 

“No, really, you're a coward. You don't have the balls to stand up, to keep your brothers and sisters from going to Michael. You only care about yourself.” 

Matthew gritted his teeth, and moved threateningly towards Sam. Cas, however, quickly stepped in front of the younger Winchester, his eyes starting to glow brightly. “Keep your distance, _brother_. This one is still in my care, and you will not harm him. I don't wish to cause any further harm to any of my brethren, but I will defend those under my charge.” 

“Keep your pet, Castiel. Don't call on us again. If you are wise, you will stay far, far away from Heaven, and leave the humans to their fate.” With a last scathing look at both Sam and Cas, he was gone. 

Sam sighed, slumping back in his chair. “Well, that went well,” he commented, dryly. 

“There is one other we need to contact, as much as it pains me to say it.” 

Sam groaned. “No, no way, don't say it.” 

“Sam, you know he needs to be told. We might need his help.” 

“Dammit,” Sam sighed, and pulled out his cellphone. He was both surprised and relieved to find he still had almost a full charge and full signal. Scowling, he scrolled through his contacts, stopping on one labeled 666. He quickly pushed the call button before he could change his mind. To his surprise, it was picked up on the first ring, so he quickly put it on speaker phone so Cas could hear as well. 

“Moose! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Crowley purred. 

“Michael has Dean.” There was a long pause. For a moment, Sam thought Crowley might have hung up on him. “Crowley, did you hear me?” 

“I heard you, Moose, I am just at a loss for how Squirrel could have done something so monumentally stupid.” 

“I would have thought you'd be more surprised that Michael is out of the cage,” Sam answered, sharing a look with Cas. 

“Michael has been out of the cage since Amara was freed.” 

“Seriously? And you're just now sharing this information?” Sam said incredulously. 

“As we were dealing with Amara and Lucifer, Michael was the very least of my concerns at the time, Samuel. Now, exactly how, pray tell, did Michael get his grubby little hands on your brother?”

“He trapped us. He-”

“The how is irrelevant, Crowley, the important thing is that he coerced Dean into agreeing to be his vessel,” Cas interrupted. 

“Ah, should have known Castiel would be there. Tell me, angel, are you feeling lost without your precious Dean yet?” 

“Shut up, Crowley, and focus. Michael wants to start the apocalypse again,” Sam spat. 

“Well, of _course_ he bloody well does, you fools! Why else would he have taken your brother? Honestly Samantha, I wonder how you're able to function on a day to day basis with such limited mental faculties.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Will you help us, or not? It's your ass too, if he succeeds.” 

“Keep your panties on, Samantha, I didn't say I wouldn't help. I'll do some research and get back to you soon.” 

“Research, what research?” Cas asked. 

“Even angels can be temped,” Crowley answered sweetly, and hung up. 

“Well, shit,” Sam said, pushing the end button. “Now what?” 

“I don't know,” Cas answered, sighing. “I have no idea what to do next.” He looked up at Sam. “I'm worried about Dean.” 

“Me too, Cas, me too.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd as always, so any mistakes are mine and mine alone. Comments and kudos make me smile. :)

Dean opened his eyes and found himself back in his room at the bunker. “The hell?” he said aloud. Whatever he was expecting after having said yes to Michael, this wasn't it. Curious, he sat up from his bed, and pinched himself, hard. “Ow. Okay, so at least that felt real.” Grunting, he stood, and looked over his room. Everything looked the same, nothing out of place, nothing missing. Frowning, he went to the door, poking his head out into the hallway. Everything was still and quiet, but felt normal, as if he were the only one home. He wrinkled his nose, thinking, _what the hell._ “Sammy? Sam, are you here?” he yelled, hearing his voice echo in the silence. The lack of response didn't really surprise him. He stepped out into the hallway and headed for the kitchen. Things looked much like they did the day they left for Tulsa. Dishes were still stacked in the holder by the sink, where he'd left them to dry. The coffee cup he'd drank from right before heading to the garage. Shaking his head, he wandered into the space they'd made their living room. The stack of DVD's he and Sam had watched last still sat on the coffee table, the book Sam had been reading on the end table by his chair. Even though he knew it was a waste of time, he still checked out the common areas, the garage, the library, the gun range, and the gym. But he was utterly alone, the bunker as silent as a tomb. 

He bounced the keys to the Impala in his hand. While the garage door opened, all that was outside was a thick fog. Apparently it marked the boundaries of his prison. He could wander anywhere in the bunker, but he couldn't leave it. He'd tried to go out in his Baby, but as soon as the fog swallowed him, he found himself back at the entrance to the garage. After the third futile attempt, he gave up and parked, and leaned against the hood, thinking. If he was right, he wasn't actually here in the bunker, but in a facsimile. He thought again about the bright light that enveloped everything after he said yes to Michael. Was he in his own mind? He had never really asked Sammy, or even Cas, what it was like to be trapped with someone else behind the wheel. Did Michael stick him in this little corner of his mind to keep him occupied? He wondered where his body was. At least he knew Sam and Cas were safe. With a grunt, the stuck the keys back in his pocket. If this place was just like the real bunker, he might be able to so some research and figure out how he could get a message out, or maybe even take control. _I hate research,_ he thought sourly. Heaving a deep sigh, he headed for the library, hoping he wouldn't find all the books blank. 

~~

“And you think this woman can help us?” 

“I think so, Missouri is a powerful psychic, too, and I think we might be able to reach Ash,” Sam replied, as he threw his duffel into the trunk. 

“How will this Ash person be able to do anything?” Cas frowned, as he climbed into the passenger seat of the Impala. 

“When Dean and I were in Heaven, he was able to get us into the Garden, and he regularly listened in to Angel Radio, so he could help us avoid capture.” Sam started up the car, and started to ease back out of the parking spot. 

“How would he have understood it? When we communicate that way, we speak Enochian.” 

“Ash just kinda, taught himself Enochian?” Sam shrugged. “He is one of the smartest people I know, hands down.” 

“Hmm,” Cas frowned. “But how will getting a message to Ash help us?” 

“He might be able to tell us what's going on in Heaven, like where Michael is? Plus, he might be able to think of a way to get Dean back.” 

“I suppose it's worth a try,” Cas said thoughtfully. “But we didn't have to drive, Sam, I could have taken us.” 

“True, but if they do figure out a way to cut you off, Cas, I'd rather save your mojo for when we really need it,” Sam said, pulling out onto the highway. 

Cas made a face. “I've lived without it before, Sam, I can do so again. Dean has told me over and over that my powers don't define me.” 

Sam looked over at the angel, surprise on his face. “Really, he said that?” 

Cas nodded, but didn't add anything further. 

“You miss him, don't you?” Sam asked gently. 

Cas looked at him surprised. “Don't you?” 

“Well, yeah, he's my brother. But you _miss_ miss him, don't you?” 

Cas scoffed. “Of course not, I could never impugn upon Dean's masculinity that way. Even if he did kiss me on the cheek.” 

Sam snorted. “He did what? When the hell did he do that?” 

“Right before Michael sent us back. When he was hugging me.” 

“Holy shit, really?” Sam goggled. 

“There's nothing holy about shit. And yes, Sam, he did. Why would I lie about it?” 

“Not calling you a liar, Cas, it's just...really surprising, that's all.” 

Cas sighed. “Your brother's constant changes of heart around me are enough to give one whiplash.” 

Sam barked with laughter at that. “Oh man, you don't have to tell me. I love you guys, but seriously, the longing stares you two give each other all the time absolutely kill me.” 

“I don't understand.” 

“You know, when you two look at each other like nobody else in the world exists, where it seems like you're both on the verge of saying or doing something, but then somebody looks away, and the moment's over.” 

“Dean has told me numerous times that staring is creepy. I try not to do it.” 

“Yeah, well, he needs to take his own advice then, because he stares at you an awful lot.” 

“Oh, yes, because the great and glorious Dean Winchester takes advice from anybody and everybody,” Cas deadpanned, raising one eyebrow at Sam. 

Sam laughed. “Hey man, I know my brother better than anybody, I just know that you're the only one I've ever seen him do that with.” 

“What he does or doesn't do is irrelevant. All I know is that he's gone, and we don't know where.” 

Sam sighed, raking a heavy hand through his hair. “We'll find him, Cas.” 

Cas was quiet for a moment. “So, how long is it till we get there?” 

“Well, thankfully, from Tulsa it's only a little less than four hours. We'll be there before you know it.” 

“I'm worried about him, Sam,” Cas said, so low Sam almost didn't hear it. 

“I know, Cas, I am too. But we'll find him. We'll get him back.” 

Cas looked over at him, his face drawn and sad. Gingerly, Sam reached over and clasped his shoulder, squeezing gently once before letting go. 

The four hours passed quickly, both men lost in their thoughts. It was early evening when Sam pulled up in front of a well kept house, with pots of flowers by the two short steps going up to the door. Sam parked, and he and Cas exchanged a glance. 

“This is it,” Sam said, before reaching for his door handle. 

Both men got out of the car and started walking up the short walkway. Before Sam could knock, the door opened. A middle aged black woman stood framed in the doorway, her bright smile lighting up her face. “Well, I'll be, if it isn't Sam Winchester darkenin' my door. Come here, boy, and give me a hug!” 

“Hey Missouri, it's good to see you again,” Sam smiled, as he enfolded her in a hug. 

After she stepped back, she eyed Castiel appraisingly. “And you must be Castiel. I've seen a lot of things, sugar, but never did I think I'd see an honest to goodness angel.” 

Surprised, Cas looked briefly at Sam, before nodding at Missouri. “That's correct, how did you know?” 

“Well, sugar, the light inside you is almost blinding. But honestly?” she gave a wink, “the wings were really the giveaway.” 

Both eyebrows raised, Cas looked again at Sam, then asked, “You can see them?” 

“Oh yes, sugar, and they are just glorious! But enough about that, honey, you boys come on in, make your self comfortable.” 

She led the way into a sitting room. The furniture was slightly worn, but comfortable, giving the room a cozy feel. 

“Now, I know this ain't a social call. You're lookin' for somebody.” Pinning Sam with a sharp gaze, she continued. “You're lookin' for Dean.” 

“Yeah. Actually, what we need is to talk to somebody, see if they can help us find him.” 

“Honey, you know I'll do anything in my power to help you, but I can't track people long-distance.” 

“Yeah, but see, the person we need to talk to...” Sam paused, looking at Cas. “He isn't alive.” 

“Sam Winchester, you know I don't do no hoodoo!” 

“No, I know, it's not hoodoo, I just need to be able to get a message to somebody in Heaven.” 

Missouri quirked an eyebrow at him, then pointed at Cas. “You mean to tell me, you've got an angel sitting right here, in my living room, and you can't get a message to Heaven?” She paused then, and said quietly. “Oh.” She looked at Cas, pity shining in her dark eyes. “You can't go home, can you sugar?” 

“No, I can't.” Cas cleared his throat, and looked down briefly before looking up at Missouri. “However, I think with a powerful enough psychic, you can make a connection with the one we need.” 

“Talkin' to left over spirits and ghosts is usually more my forte, sugar. Let me make some calls, give me a little time. You boys are stayin' here, and I ain't takin' no for an answer,” she said firmly. “But for now, you boys look like you could use a good meal.” 

“That's really not necessary-” Sam cut off sharply, almost swallowing his tongue at the glare Missouri leveled his way. “I mean, that would be great,” he finished lamely. 

“That's what I thought,” she said archly. She looked over at Cas. “You ain't got nothin' to add?”

With a small smile, Cas held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. 

“Good. I had a feelin' I'd have company tonight, so I made some beef stew.” A buzzer went off somewhere in the house. “That's the bread. Y’all come on into the dinin' room, I'll bring it all right out.” 

As Missouri sailed out of the room, Cas leaned slightly over towards Sam. “Should I tell her that angels don't eat?” 

“Not unless you want your wings clipped,” Sam said, nudging the angel with his shoulder. “Besides, you said once you could eat.” 

“Yes, but it's not like when you're human. When I was human, I could actually taste food, but as an angel, all I can taste is the molecules. While it's not unpleasant, it's not enjoyable, either.” 

“I think in this case, you're gonna have to fake it,” Sam said, standing and jerking his head in the direction of the dining room. 

“I think you're right,” Cas said. He stood with a small sigh and followed Sam into the dining room. 

Much like the rest of the house, it was a warm and cozy room. A hunter green graced the walls, with maroon accents. The table was a dark cherry, polished to a high shine. Bowls were already set out on the table, and as the men sat down Missouri came through what was undoubtedly the kitchen door with a basketful of fresh baked bread, cut into slices. 

“This smells amazing, Missouri,” Sam said, inhaling appreciatively. 

“Well, it's not fancy, but it's fillin', and that's what's important,” she said with a smile, as she set the basket of bread down in the center of the table and took her seat. “Now, tell me about who it is you're needin' to get a hold of.” 

“His name is Ash. He was a friend of ours, well, mine and Dean's anyways, and he was a genius. He got killed a few years ago helping us. But when Dean and I were in Heaven, he-”

“Wait, you mean to tell me you and your brother were in Heaven?” 

“Well, yeah, but-” 

“Don't tell me, you were dead?” Disbelief colored Missouri's voice as she arched an eyebrow at Sam. 

Sam exchanged a look with Cas, who gave him a minute shrug in answer. “Uh, yeah, but we came back. Anyway, while we were there, Ash helped us find the Garden and escape from the rogue angels hunting for us.” 

Missouri sat back, eying Sam thoughtfully. “And where were you in all this, Castiel?” 

“I was trying to guide them to the Garden, but I couldn't be there myself. I would have put them in more danger than they already were.” 

Missouri sat still, her glances moving between both men, as if she was deciding something. Finally, she spoke. “So, you need to reach this Ash fella, for what?” 

Cas looked at Sam for a moment, before speaking. “My brother, Michael, currently is using Dean as his vessel. He tricked Dean into saying yes, and now he wants to use Dean to help restart the apocalypse.” 

“That don't sound like something Dean would do,” Missouri said, taking another bite of stew. “This Michael musta had something powerful important to get Dean to say yes.” 

“He did it to save us, Missouri. There was a case in Tulsa, we thought it was either some kind of monster or a vengeful spirit. We ended up stuck in some kind of fairy tale, and the only way out was for Dean to say yes, both to save Cas and I and the other people stuck there too.” 

“Fairy tale? Are you serious?” She half laughed, a smile on her face. 

Sam nodded at her. “Disney castle and all.” 

“Oh lord,” she said, her smile giving way to laughter. “I can tell you're telling the truth, but it doesn't make it any less ridiculous.” 

Sam smiled slightly. “Yeah, I can get that. We were stuck in some variation of Sleeping Beauty. Complete with the spinning wheel.” 

“So which one of you got to be Aurora, then? Was it you, Sam?” 

“Ah, no, that would be me,” Cas answered sheepishly, ducking his head. “It was a compulsion that I couldn't fight, that brought me to it, and made me touch the needle.” 

Missouri laughed long and hard at that. “Oh, that's too precious,” she managed to get out, fanning her face. “Let me guess, Dean had to wake you up with a kiss?” Her laughter died when she noticed neither Sam nor Cas were laughing, and instead looking sad. “Oh. He either didn't try, or he did and it didn't work.” 

“We both did,” Sam answered. At Cas' sharp look, he hastened to explain. “I mean, I was pretty sure it wouldn't be me that it would work for. I mean, Cas, I love you to death, but not...like that.” He took a deep breath. “Dean said he tried, but nothing happened. But I wasn't there to see it.” 

Missouri sighed deeply. “So I'm guessing Michael gave Dean the hard sell then, to get him to say yes.” 

“Cas was turning to stone while we watched. He told Dean that Cas' grace was tied into the spell, and that once Cas was completely stone he would be gone. Dean made him bring Cas back and send us all back before he'd say yes. So, Cas and I were back in the apartment all the disappearances were happening in, with all the ones who'd been taken.” 

Missouri sat back in her chair, thoughtful. “So how does this Ash fella figure in all this?” 

“Ash keeps track of what's going on with the angels in Heaven. He'd managed to teach himself their language, and he keeps up with what's going on up there. If anybody would know where Dean is, it'd be him.” 

“But even if you find Dean, how are you gonna get him free from Michael?” she asked. 

Cas spoke up. “We're hoping that we can find some kind of spell that we can use to eject Michael but not Dean.” 

Missouri sighed again. “I don't suppose you have anything of Ash's that might make cluein' in to him any easier, huh?” 

“Sorry, I don't,” Sam answered regretfully. 

“Well, let me make some calls. Hopefully I'll have some ideas on how to do it by tomorrow. For now, eat up, then I'll show you where the guest rooms are.” 

“Thanks Missouri. For everything,” Sam said quietly. 

“Oh, sugar, hush, you know I'd do anything to help you boys. Now, eat up, I don't need no leftovers to have to deal with,” she replied, with a kind smile. 

“Yes ma'am,” Sam grinned at her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the extremely late update! Time just got away from me this week. As an apology, I'm posting two chapters today. Enjoy! As always, comments and kudos make me smile. :)

Dean paced back and forth. Research sucks balls even on a good day, but apparently the bunker in his mind only has books that he's actually read. Oh, sure there were other books, but the pages were blank. Anything he hadn't already read at some point was nothing but empty pages. He jerked to a stop when he heard the distant thud of the bunker door closing. He'd been alone in his prison for days, so he was understandably wary at the sound of company. He eased his way to the war room, and peeked around the corner. 

“Bit melodramatic, don't you think, Dean? After all, who else would be here with you?” Michael's taunting voice floated down the stairs to him. 

With a muttered curse, Dean slouched around the corner to watch Michael saunter down the stairs, crossing his arms across his chest. He was in the same nondescript vessel as before. “What do you want?” 

“Just checking in, wanted to see how you were adjusting.” 

“Even prisoners get yard time,” Dean shot back, faking a yawn. 

“Most prisons aren't as well appointed as this one,” Michael replied, sweeping a hand to encompass the room. “Most prisoners would be quite content with such conditions.” 

“I'd be a lot more content if I got to be in the driver's seat,” Dean countered coolly. 

“Now, now, that wasn't the deal. I saved your brother and your angel, and I got you. That was what we agreed upon, there was nothing in it about shared custody.” 

“Do you have a reason to be here? Because if not, you can go fuck yourself.” 

Michael laughed. “I always did admire that about you. That utter lack of self control, even when it would be in your best interest.” He took a few steps away from the stairs, looking around the room. “I merely came to tell you that I was aware of your attempts to escape, and to let you know that further attempts could be construed as ways to break our deal.” 

“So there is a way to escape, is that what you're telling me?” Dean smirked. 

“No, but having to pay attention to a fly buzzing is irritating. Eventually, irritating flies get swatted. While I inhabit this body, your loved ones continued existence is dependent upon how well you behave.” 

Dean scowled. “You promised to leave them alone.” 

“I did no such thing. I kept my word, I saved Castiel, and I sent he, your brother, and the ones I took home. I allowed your brother and mine to go about unharmed, but I never promised to do so forever.” 

“You sonofabitch, don't you dare touch them, either of them,” Dean growled. 

“Your threats are meaningless, Dean,” Michael laughed. “As I said, at this juncture I have no interest in either of them. However,” his smile faded, and was replaced by something cold and alien, “if you continue to be an annoyance, I will find them, and I will kill them.” As if flipping a switch, the cold look was gone, replaced by a grin. “So, good talk!” He made a show of looking at a watch on his wrist. “And would you look at the time! I've got to run,” he said, turning to go back up the steps. “I trust we understand each other?” he asked, looking at Dean over his shoulder. 

Dean didn't trust himself to speak, he just stared stonily at Michael. When he realized Michael wouldn't leave without some assurance of Dean's behavior, he forced himself to nod once, sharply. Michael seemed satisfied with that, and waved lazily as he headed up the stairs and out, slamming the bunker door shut behind him. 

“Well, fuck,” Dean said softly, slumping against the wall. _What am I gonna do now?_

~~

The next day, Missouri made good on her promise to make calls. She spent a good portion of her day on the phone, talking to others like her who had more experience trying to call up specific spirits. Cas passed the time reading various books from Missouri's library, while Sam did aimless research on his laptop. When noon rolled around, Sam made lunch, earning a grateful smile from Missouri. 

“Cas, I'm gonna run to the grocery store, get something to make for dinner. Wanna come with?”

Cas looked up from his book. “I think I'll stay here, but thanks.” 

“Sure, you need anything? I mean, I know you don't eat, but...” Sam cut off, making a vague gesture with his hands that could mean anything or everything. 

“I'm fine, Sam, but I appreciate the offer,” Cas answered, giving the taller man a small smile. 

“Well, I've got my cell if you need me, just call.” With a small nod, Sam turned and left the room. A few minutes later Cas could hear the throaty rumble of the Impala as it fired up, gradually fading as Sam pulled away and down the street. 

Cas read quietly for awhile. He'd never had an opportunity to read a lot of human literature before, but he had to admit that after Metatron had dumped all of that pop culture knowledge on him he'd been more curious to read the books and see the movies the references had come from for himself. It was one thing to have the entire plot line of Game of Thrones put in his head, but to actually read the works gave a whole other dimension of understanding of the central themes of the story. Missouri's book selection was small, but the few he'd read so far he'd enjoyed. Currently, he was reading a book called “The Help”, and it was very good. He knew about the civil rights movement, of course. But hearing about how bad it was for certain humans, based on simply the color of their skin, gave him much to think about. Humans were very complex in their thought patterns, their likes and dislikes. Cas thought to himself that even if he had another millennia, he'd still never understand humanity. 

“Oh, honey, that one is one of my favorites,” Missouri smiled tiredly, as she sat down in the armchair across from Cas. 

“I have to say it is quite enjoyable,” Cas agreed, placing a slip of paper to serve as a bookmark before putting the book aside. “Thank you for allowing me to peruse your books.” 

“It's no problem, sugar, you boys have been quiet as a mouse, I had to come check on you. Where'd long, tall, and handsome get himself off to?” she asked, leaning back with a soft sigh. 

It took Cas a moment to realize she was referring to Sam. “He went to the grocery store, to get something for dinner,” he said, clearing his throat. 

Missouri rolled her eyes. “Now, he didn't have to go and do that,” she grumbled. 

“I believe he felt it would be a nice thing to do, especially since you are helping us.” 

“I've known that boy since he was in diapers, I'd do anything to help him or his brother, and he don't owe me nothin'.” 

Cas smiled at the thought of Sam small, toddling around in a diaper. “I would have liked to have seen that.” 

“What, Sam in diapers?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh, sugar,” Missouri gave him a grin then, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Then I've got something you'll love.” She stood and crossed to the bookshelf, and pulled an old photo album from a top shelf. Coming to sit beside Cas, she opened the album across both their laps. She leafed through a few pages, but stopped about half way through. Smiling, she tapped a page of snapshots, with a younger John Winchester smiling up, holding a baby. The baby had tufts of dark brown hair, with that pudgy softness that all babies seem to share. Next to him was a small boy, huge green eyes with freckles dotting his nose and cheeks. Sandy blonde hair was a shining cap around his ears. 

Cas reached out and touched the page gently, drawing his fingertip gently against the plastic holding the pictures in place. “They were so young,” he said softly. 

“Yes, they were. Still so innocent,” Missouri sighed sadly. “This one was taken right before Mary died.” 

Cas looked up at Missouri. “Sam told me that John didn't meet you until after Mary died.” 

“Oh, no, honey, I'd known Mary since she was a girl. Her family and mine had always been friends. But John didn't know what I was until after Mary died. Mary had made me promise that I wouldn't tell him, she never wanted this for her boys. She thought that if she kept John in the dark, that she could protect them all, could keep them safe from what was out there.” 

“So how did he find out?” Cas asked, his eyes still on the photo. 

“When John started asking questions, Bobby was one of the first people to tell him about the supernatural. When he had questions about spirits and ghosts, Bobby sent him to me, not knowing that we already knew each other.” Missouri sighed again. “John was pretty sore at me, when he found out. I couldn't blame him for being angry, but after I told him about my promise to Mary, he calmed down somewhat. Not long after that, he brought the boys so I could see them. I got to baby sit every now and again, but as they got older, John wanted them to learn more than I could teach, and they spent what time they weren't on the road with Bobby.” 

“It wasn't fair, what they went through,” Cas said quietly. 

“No, sugar, it wasn't. But it is what it is. Best we can do is help 'em anyhow we can, and be there for 'em, and love 'em.” 

Cas looked away at that, swallowing hard. 

Missouri looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. “You love him, don't you?” 

Cas wouldn't look at her when he answered. “Dean has told me many times how rude it is to read people's thoughts without permission.” 

“I can't read thoughts, not really. But I read feelings, auras. Every now and then I'll get a flash of a memory, if somebody is thinkin' about it hard enough. And right now, your very being is tellin' me how much you love that boy.” Gently, she put a hand on the angel's arm. “Have you ever told him?” 

Cas gave a harsh laugh. “Obviously you don't know Dean very well.” 

“What's that supposed to mean?” 

“Dean has never intimated that he is anything other than heterosexual. His repeated refusal to have what he terms 'chick flick moments'” he flicked index and middle fingers of both hands in the air, making quotation marks, “or discussing anything related to how he feels...” he paused. He took a deep breath, before looking up at Missouri. “He would never reciprocate any feelings I might have.” 

“Sam told me a little bit about what you boys have been up to. Did he really search in Purgatory for you for a year?” 

“I kept trying to stay away from him, I just wanted him to be safe. But he was...persistent.” 

“That doesn't sound like the actions of somebody who just thinks of you as a friend.” 

“He would have done the same for Sam.” 

“True, but Sam's family. If nothing else, that means he thinks of you the same way.” 

“Oh, yes, he's told me that I'm family, that he needs me. But it's nothing more.” 

Missouri gave him a sharp look. “I think if he told you he needs you, it's more than that.” 

Cas sighed. “Not to be rude, but can we please change the subject?” It hurt too much to think about that time in the crypt. Dean's broken confession, his face bloodied and battered. 

Missouri's sharp inhale made Cas wince. She'd probably seen that flash. He looked at her pleadingly, and though she looked like she wanted to speak, she stopped. She sighed deeply, shaking her head slightly, before giving Cas a small smile. “So, you wanna see more pictures of the boys growing up?” 

“Yes, please,” Cas said, answering her smile with one of his own. 

They were still looking at the album when Sam came back, and he groaned when he found them laughing over a picture of Sam from third grade. “Seriously, Missouri, breaking out the old pictures? I thought you liked me!” 

Cas giggled, honest to Chuck _giggled_ , as he pointed at Sam's picture. “I think you look very cute here,” he said, smiling up at Sam. The picture showed Sam with a mullet, bangs almost in his eyes, with a big grin that showcased his missing front teeth. 

“Yeah, but I like this one better,” Sam retorted, leaning over to tap a picture of Dean from the same year. He was in seventh grade that year, his hair spiked up in the front, his freckles standing out sharply. Unlike Sam's picture, Dean smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. His cheeks were still smooth and round with the last bit of baby fat, but his chin and nose were unmistakably Dean. The left cheek bore the pale yellow of a fading bruise. 

“What happened to his face?” Cas asked. 

“Ah, well, he, ah...” Sam stammered, rubbing a hand over his face. He sighed. “Dad clocked him one for opening the door before checking who it was first.” 

“He did what?” Cas asked, threads of anger warming his voice. 

“He was always hard on Dean. Dean was supposed to be his perfect little soldier,” Sam said bitterly. “I mean, I got my ass kicked for stuff too, but nothing like Dean did.” 

“How did he get away with abusing his son?” Cas looked at Missouri. Her face was sad, but not surprised. “You knew,” he said softly. 

She nodded. “One time he brought the boys over with bruises, I told him that if they came back to my house like that again I'd call child services. That was the last time I was allowed to see them. Until they came to see me looking for their dad, which was years later, I hadn't seen them since.” 

Cas shook his head. He fought down the anger he felt for both Sam and Dean. He knew it was in the past, and he couldn't change it. John Winchester was dead, it's not like he could go and punch him in the face, as much as he might enjoy it. 

“So, I got stuff to make dinner, if you guys are hungry,” Sam said, breaking the tense silence. 

“You didn't have to do that, you know,” Missouri chided gently, patting Cas' shoulder as she closed the picture album and sat it on the coffee table. She stood with a slight wince. “But I'll come help you.” 

“That's not necessary-” Sam cut off with a gulp at the glare Missouri leveled at him. “Yes, ma'am.” 

“That's what I thought,” Missouri answered, shoving Sam gently towards the kitchen. “You comin'?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at Cas. 

“If you don't need the help, could I perhaps read some more? If that's okay?” 

Missouri gave him a soft smile. “You sure can sugar. We'll call you when it's ready,” she said, herding Sam out of the room. 

Cas sat still for a moment. He looked at his discarded book for a moment, then back at the picture album still on the coffee table. He hesitated, but then picked the album back up, and spread it open across his lap. He flipped through the pages, until he found the ones with Sam and Dean. He stopped on one from Dean in high school. It had to have been when he was sixteen or seventeen, as Cas knew he had dropped out before his senior year. He looked more like the Dean that Cas knew, but younger. His eyes were still bright, full of life, that spark of irreverence that he had when they first met. He wore a cocky grin, one eyebrow arched like he knew something the photographer didn't. Cas couldn't help the soft smile that crept across his face, as he traced Dean's picture with his finger. He didn't know how long he sat there, staring at the picture, but he jumped when he heard Sam call his name, slamming the album shut. 

“I'll be right there!” he called back, his heart thumping like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. He took a moment to calm himself, then headed toward the dining room to join the others. 

~~

Dean was bored. Beyond bored, he was going stir-crazy. This was worse than that time he was stuck in the green room. At least then, Cas had been there to talk to, even if he wasn't supposed to be there. Hmm. He wondered if he prayed, if Cas would still hear it? 

_Cas, buddy, I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm going crazy here. I never thought you could get cabin fever stuck in your own head. I hope you guys are okay. I hope Michael kept his word, and all those people got out. I miss you man. I'd give almost anything to have Sam give me one of his bitchfaces, or to see you give me that tilted head-eye squint thing that tells me you have no clue what I just said. Michael's got me pretty much on lock down, so I can't see or hear anything. It's so weird, thinking about my body running around doing stuff. I bet he's put me in a damn suit or something. Tool._

_I almost wish you could do your dream walk thing. I'm really starting to hate being alone. I'm not used to it, if I'm honest. I've never really had to be alone, not really. I always had Sam, or Dad, or Bobby. Hell, I even had Lisa for awhile, when I thought Sam was dead and you were gone. I...I don't know how to be alone like this. I really hate it. I wish you were here. I wish Sam were here. Maybe if I were less of a coward...but I wasn't enough. I failed you, like I've failed everyone I've cared about. I did try to save you. I know Sammy is probably mad as fuck at me, but this was the only way I could save you both. I'd do it again, in a heartbeat. I just wanted you to know that._

Dean sighed. He didn't know if anything would get through to Cas, but he felt better, better than he had in awhile. It was almost as good as having an actual conversation. Thinking that Cas might be able to listen, even if he couldn't answer back, made him feel a little less lonely. 

~~

Cas sat straight abruptly, as if lightning had just shot up his spine. 

“Cas?” Sam called, half rising from his chair and reaching out to the angel across the table. 

“I'm...I'm fine, Sam...” Cas answered faintly, a look of soft wonder on his face. “He's praying.”

“Who's praying, Dean?” 

“Yes.” 

Sam's face lit up. “Is he okay? Is he telling you where he is?” 

“No...hold on, Sam.” 

Sam forced himself to be patient, sharing a look with Missouri. She gave a slight shrug and a smile, leaning back in her own chair. 

Cas closed his eyes, as if concentrating. After a few minutes, he sighed, and opened his eyes. “He's in a replica of the bunker. Michael has him on lock down in his own head. He misses you,” he said, giving Sam a small smile. 

“What else did he say?” Sam asked. 

“He gave me an idea. I can't believe I didn't think of it before.” He looked up at Sam. “I'm going to try and dream walk him, it would be a way to get information to him.” 

“That's a great idea, Cas! I can't believe I didn't think about that either. I think I still have some of that dream root stuff left...”

“No, Sam. I don't know if I'll be able to get in, or if Michael will know I'm there or not. It's too risky for you right now. If I can make it in undetected, then you can possibly go the next time.” 

“But Cas-”

“Michael make take the attempt as an attack. I have a better chance of survival than you will,” Cas said firmly, cutting Sam off before he could protest further. 

“So, how can that help us?” Missouri asked. 

Cas sighed. “I'm not sure yet. He did mention that Michael is keeping him in the dark about what's going on, or even where he is. If I can get to him, I might be able to teach him how to 'see' despite Michael's blocks. It's risky, but it's a chance.”

“So then do we still need to try and contact Ash?” Sam asked. 

Cas thought for a moment, then nodded. “There's no guarantee I'm going to be able to reach Dean. I still think we should try to reach your friend.” 

Sam looked over at Missouri. “Missouri? What did your contacts say? Do you think you can reach him?” 

“All we can do is try, sugar. But I think I can.” She raised one eyebrow. “I do, however, need to know his full name.” 

“Yeah...” Sam cuffed the back of his neck, looking faintly embarrassed. “I actually have no idea what that is.” 

“You needin' to contact somebody in _Heaven_ , and you don't even know their real name? Boy, you gonna be the death of me!” Missouri huffed, crossing her arms. “You know how many people named 'Ash' there gotta be in Heaven?” 

“Nine thousand, three hundred and forty six,” Cas answered, looking down at the table. He looked up to see both Sam and Missouri glaring at him. “I'm sorry, I thought that was a legitimate question.” 

Missouri rolled her eyes. “Is there _anything_ you do know about this man? I thought he was your friend!” 

“He is! Was...I mean, we didn't know him very well, but he was good friends with Ellen and Jo. They probably knew his real name, but we never were told what it was. Just that he was a genius, that he got kicked out of MIT. He had a plaque on his door that called him Dr. Badass,” Sam said, chuckling. “Actually,” Sam frowned, “I think, in Jo's journal, she might have called him Miles.” 

Missouri sighed deeply. “Okay, so we're looking for a man, who went by Ash, whose real name might have been Miles, but called himself Dr. Badass?” 

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, Missouri, I didn't think about how difficult this would be.” Sam gave her an apologetic grimace. 

“Didn't you tell me that when you were in Ash's heaven, he brought someone else to speak to you?” Cas asked. 

“Yeah, Pamela. Hey, Missouri, do you think you could reach her instead? Pamela Barnes, she was a psychic, too.” 

“Now, that, I can work with,” Missouri stated, rubbing her hands together. “Give me a little bit to get it all set up, and we'll see what we can see.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter, whoo! As always, comments and kudos make me smile. :)

Sam's phone rang while they were cleaning up from dinner. He looked at the caller ID, then frowned at Cas. “It's Crowley,” he said, before answering. “Crowley, tell me you've found something.” 

“Well, hello to you too, Moose. Are you always this charming when you answer the phone?” 

“Yes, you found something, or no, you haven't, it was a simple question.” 

“Don't get your knickers in a twist, Samantha, I wouldn't have called if I didn't have something. Unlike you lot, my time is valuable.” 

Sam closed his eyes briefly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I'm putting you on speaker, hold on.” He pulled the phone away from his ear and tapped the screen, then sat the phone on the table. “Tell us what you've found.” 

“Michael has wasted no time in Heaven. He's not taking no for an answer. He gave any angels who didn't immediately come to his side a day to change their minds, then he started slaughtering the ones who still refused.” 

“We knew he was going to,” Sam said. He shared a look at Cas, who'd gone pale. “What else did you find out?” 

“From the loyalists, he's got a group that are dedicated to finding Lucifer. They're taking a page from you boys, investigating strange deaths, anything with burned out eyes or completely obliterated bodies. So far, they haven't had much luck.” 

“If he really wishes to restart the apocalypse, wouldn't he need me, too though? Why didn't he keep me too?” Sam asked. 

“Possibly because he knew he could find you later, when he had all of his other plans in place,” Cas answered. 

“I do, however, have some good news,” Crowley said. 

“What's that?” Sam asked. 

“I'd rather share it in person. Even my phone calls can be traced, and trust me, this one's a doozy. What charming hovel have you two hied off to this time?” 

Missouri scowled at the phone. “Now, you listen here, sugar, my home is NOT a hovel, and if you intend to visit it anytime soon, you'd better learn some manners.” 

“Well, well, Samantha, cheating on me? I would say I'm shocked, but I'm actually sort of proud. Tell me where you are, and I'll judge said domicile for myself.” 

“Shut up Crowley,” Sam spat. He looked at Missouri, raising his eyebrows in silent question. “Hold on,” he said, putting the phone on mute. “It's your house, Missouri. Cas and I can always meet him somewhere else.” 

“Who is he, sugar?” 

“Ah, well, he's ah,” he broke off, looking uncomfortable. “He's the king of Hell.” 

“Say what?” She gave Sam an incredulous look. “Sam Winchester, if you're pulling my leg, so help me...” 

“He's not, unfortunately,” Cas cut in, giving Sam a look. “But we shouldn't bring him here, it's too dangerous.” 

“Can he help you boys?” Missouri asked. 

“Maybe? I don't know. He's helped us in the past, but he's always looking out for himself, first. And it usually comes with some kind of price.” 

“I haven't got all day, Moose,” Crowley's voice drawled from the table. 

“Bring him here,” Missouri said. 

“Are you sure?”

“I don't think it's wise-”

She cut off both men with a sharp look. “It's my house, and I said bring him. Now, you gonna unmute that phone, or should I?” 

Sam and Cas traded looks, then Sam sighed and unmuted the phone. Speaking quickly, he gave the address. 

“My, my, this is definitely a step up from your usual places of repose,” came a voice from the doorway. Crowley walked into the room, immaculate in a dark suit with blood red tie. He extended a hand out to Missouri. “Crowley, King of Hell. Pleasure to make your acquaintance...?”

Missouri ignored his hand, giving him a frown as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Missouri Mosley. Now, you're in my house, so I expect you to behave as company ought, you understand me?” 

“Clear as crystal.” He pulled his hand back, shooting an amused glance at Sam and Cas. “Are all your friends so charming?” 

“You said you had information,” Cas said. 

“That I do. Rumors are wonderful things, really. According to the grapevine, Michael isn't the only big gun still floating about.” 

Sam frowned. “Big gun? You mean other than Lucifer?” 

“I think he means another archangel.” Cas gave Sam a skeptical look. “But how? All the others are dead.” 

“Ah, but what if one _wasn't_ dead, exactly? Rumor has it that the angel who would be pagan is alive and kicking.” 

“Gabriel?” Cas said, frowning. “That's impossible, I saw his body.” 

“And Chuck said that he was dead, that he didn't have the time to bring back an archangel, because they were made of the primordial stuff of creation, or something like that,” Sam said. 

Crowley shrugged. “The rumors are that he's around, but in hiding. He'd be a powerful ally, if he could be found.” 

“Say he is alive. How would we find him? Gabriel hid for thousands of years without Heaven being able to find him before,” Cas said slowly. 

“Could we summon him? It worked once before,” Sam asked. 

“Summoning an archangel is risky,” Cas answered. “While Gabriel has always been on better terms with humanity, if he is truly alive, somehow, that might not be the case now.” 

“Did your rumor mill have any idea where Gabriel might be?” Sam asked, looking at Crowley. 

“My sources didn't have much to go on in that regard, but I think the summoning idea has merit. Of course, I'm not the one who would be summoning him, so it matters little to me.” 

“While I get that this kind of info is a big deal, what was so important about it that you couldn't tell it to us on the phone?” Sam asked. 

“Do you realize how much of an uproar Heaven is in right now? Half the angels are running from Michael's wrath, and the other half are either looking for Lucifer or trying to find some other way of currying favor with Heaven's new boss. What do you think Michael would do if he thought Gabriel might be alive? Coming here was the only way I could ensure that it wouldn't get back to him. Heaven has spies in Hell, too.” 

Cas shared a look with Sam. “He's right. Michael would definitely be looking for Gabriel, either to bring him to his side, or to make sure he doesn't try to stop him.” 

Missouri, who'd been sitting quietly, spoke up. “What would summoning him entail? Is there a way you can do it, and keep safe?” 

“We'd have to summon him into a circle of holy oil, that's the only thing that can hold an angel. But it won't hold him forever,” Cas answered. 

“Well, I've delivered my message. I've demons on the lookout for Lucifer as well, I'll be in touch,” Crowley said. “Do update me if you find Gabriel, hmm?” He nodded at Missouri. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said, and snapped his fingers and vanished. 

“Well, I have to say, he was not what I expected,” Missouri said slowly. 

“He never is,” Sam groused, running a hand through his hair. “So, now what?” 

“I can go retrieve the holy oil we need for summoning Gabriel. When I return, we can try to reach out to your friend.” Cas stood, brushing a hand down the front of his shirt. “I'll be back shortly.” With a rustle of feathers, he disappeared. 

Missouri shook her head. “That's a neat trick, I have to say,” she chuckled. “Help me clear the table, Sam, and we'll get set up while we wait.” 

Sam nodded at Missouri, and they worked in silence, clearing the table of the dinner dishes. Sam cleaned the kitchen while Missouri got out candles and a green table cloth. She spread the cloth over the table, and set up the candles in a loose circle around the table edges. Sam came back into the dining room. “You need anything else, Missouri?” 

“No Sam, I'm all set. Just waiting for Cas to come back.” 

They both sat down at the table, for lack of anything else to do. Another rustle of feathers announced Cas' return. He held a large clay flask, and set it on the table. “Are we ready?” he asked. 

“Take a seat,” Missouri said, and gestured for him to take the seat to her left. She stood, and started lighting the candles around the table. After all the candles were lit, she turned off the overhead light and took her seat at the table. “All right, take hands both of you, one of mine and one of each others.” She looked at both of them. “No matter what happens, don't let go, until I tell you to, all right?” She waited until both men nodded at her, before closing her eyes, letting out her breath in a sigh. 

Cas could feel the moment she started to reach out. Her power filled the room, much like water flowing into a cup. It had a warm weight to it, but it made him shiver, nevertheless. He felt Missouri's hand tighten on his before she jerked, sitting up straighter in her chair. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped at Sam's knee nudging his own. He looked over at the younger Winchester, who shook his head and gave him a look. 

Missouri's head went back, and a throaty whisper slipped out. “Well, well, boys, I didn't expect to be speaking to you again so soon.” 

“Pamela?” Sam asked. 

Missouri's head tilted back down, but the look she shot Sam was sultry, and Cas knew it wasn't Missouri speaking any longer. “That's right, hot stuff. Time's been good to you, Sam. But I'm guessing you're looking for Dean.” 

“That's why we need your help. Well, yours and Ash's,” Sam said. “Dean said yes to Michael.” 

“We know. Ash said Angel Radio's been lit up with the angels talking about the Righteous Man's return to Heaven. But the last few days have been pretty awful. He's been killing any angel that doesn't agree with him.” 

“We need to find a way to get Michael out of Dean, Pamela. We were hoping Ash could help.” 

“Not that I'm complaining, but why didn't you contact him?”

“Well, ah, honestly? We didn't know his name,” Sam said with a grimace. 

Pamela laughed, rich and warm. “Oh, he'll love that. This is probably easier, anyhow.” She paused for a moment, her head cocked to the side, listening to a conversation they weren't privy to. “Ash said that right now, Michael's just been gathering his power. He said that there's been talk about looking for Lucifer, though.” 

“We need a way to get Michael out of Dean. Can Ash think of anything that might help?” 

Another long silence. “Ash said he might have a few ideas, but he'll need to do some research, and maybe some recon.” She paused again. “Give us a few days, then contact me again. Hopefully I'll have something for you then.” 

“Thanks Pamela, we really appreciate it,” Sam said. “Tell Ash too.” 

“No problem, hot stuff. Talk soon.” With a shudder, Missouri came back to herself with a sigh, opening her eyes slowly. “Good lord, she was strong.” 

“Yeah, she is definitely one of a kind,” Sam said with a smile. “You okay?” 

“I'm fine, it was just weird, having a stranger in my head, comin' out my mouth. So, what now, we try summoning your archangel?” 

“You don't have to do that, Sam and I can-” Cas started, but was cut off by Missouri. 

“Did you, or did you not, come to me for help?” she asked, a steely glint in her eyes. 

Cas seemed to shrink under her glare. “We did, but-”

“But nothing! I care about Dean too. You came to me for help, and that's what I'm doin'.” 

“I can't predict how Gabriel will react if he shows. He might be himself, he might not. I don't want to take a chance that you could be hurt.” 

“Sam'd be takin' the same chance I would. Last I checked, he's not an angel of the Lord, neither.” 

“I know, but-” Cas tried, but stopped at another glare from her. “Very well,” he sighed. He glared at Sam. “You are no help at all.” 

“Dude, I'm sorry,” Sam said, a smile on his face and his hands held up, “I knew it was a lost cause, before you even started.”

“Well, be that as it may, we need a place to do the summoning,” Cas said. 

“Why can't you do that here?” Missouri asked.

“It's generally not a good idea to summon an angel anywhere you live,” Sam said. “They can be kind of destructive.” 

“One the other end of town, there's a bunch of old houses. Could we use one of those?” Missouri asked. 

“Is anybody living anywhere close by?” Sam asked, sharing a look with Cas. 

“No, I think they're all empty.” 

Cas nodded. “That sounds like our best bet.” 

Missouri looked at both men. “Then what are we waitin' for? Let's get this show on the road.” She stood up, and started blowing out the candles still lit around the table. 

Sam and Cas shared a look, and Cas grabbed the jar of holy oil, while Sam helped Missouri put out the candles and put up the tablecloth. After everything was put to rights, Missouri grabbed her coat, and the three got into the car to head towards the spot Missouri talked about. A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of a cluster of abandoned houses, dark and foreboding in the Impala's headlights.

After a careful examination of the three houses, Sam chose the one in the middle. Making quick work of the lock on the door, he led the them inside. Cas got to work making the holy oil circle, using the open living room they found off to the right of the door. 

“Whatever happens, don't cross the circle, okay?” Sam said to Missouri, waiting for her nod before throwing the lit match down on the oil. 

As the circle whooshed to life, Cas began to chant. _”Raa gah io es,Vin nonca aaspt poamal de z”_

The fire burned brightly, but remained empty. Missouri looked around, then at both Cas and Sam. “Not that I'm complainin', but does it usually take long?” 

“Archangels aren't like regular angels. Angels like myself can't ignore a summons, but an archangel has a bit more leeway as to when they answer. That's what makes it so dangerous to summon one,” Cas answered. 

“And what happens if that circle ain't lit when he shows?” 

Cas looked at her grimly. “Hope that he's not in a smiting mood.” 

~~

They'd waited for hours. Finally, Sam said there was no point waiting any longer, and he doused the holy oil ring and they made quick work of erasing all sign of their presence. It was a quiet ride back to Missouri's house. No one spoke on the way in, but Missouri stopped just inside the doorway. 

“Sam,” she whispered, “There's someone in the house.” 

“Shit,” he said, exchanging a look with Cas. “Can you tell who it is?” he asked. 

“I don't think they mean us any harm...but I'm not sure if they're here to help us, neither.” She frowned. “All I'm getting is a taste like cotton candy, in the back of my throat.” 

Gently he nudged her back behind him, and pulled out his gun. From the corner of his eye he noticed Cas now held his angel blade, and nodding at the other man once, he eased inside, leading with his gun held in a teacup grip. As he crept around the corner, he could hear the TV now, tuned to some silly game show. As he got closer, he could see a head above the couch back, golden brown hair the only feature he could see at the moment. As he and Cas crept closer, the person spoke. 

“It's rude to sneak up on people, Samsquatch.” Twinkling golden eyes looked at him over the back of the couch, and Sam and Cas both pulled up short. 

“Gabriel?” Sam asked, holding his gun steady. He looked at Cas, who nodded once, and relaxed his stance. 

“It's him, Sam,” Cas said, his blade disappearing back into his sleeve. 

“In the flesh, Samalam. Hey, Cassie, how's my little bro, huh? I've missed you knuckleheads!” He stood, stretching slightly. He made a show of looking around. “Where's Deano? Is he not with you guys?” 

“That's why we we called you, brother,” Cas said, moving forward. “Michael has Dean. We need your help.” 

Gabriel's face fell. “What the fuck? What happened to Team Free Will and telling my brothers to go take a long walk off a short pier?” 

Missouri stepped around both men, and scowled at the archangel. “Mister, you might be a big shot somewhere, but this is my house, and I'll not have that kinda talk under my roof, you understand me?” 

“Apologies, good madame,” Gabriel said, giving her a sweeping bow. “Gabriel, archangel of the Lord, at your service.” 

“I know who you are,” she said archly, as he grinned at her. “Don't make you any less of a fool.” But she gave a small smile to take some of the sting out of her words. 

“Too right, ma'am! Heaven's court jester, in the flesh. Now,” he said, rubbing his palms together, “what the hell happened?” 

“How about you go first? We thought you were dead,” Sam said, as he tucked his gun back in its usual spot. 

“I was dead. I really can't tell you much, other than my dear brother had something to do with it.” 

“Being more specific would be helpful,” Cas commented dryly. 

Gabriel winked at Cas. “What fun is that?” He rolled his eyes at the bitchface Sam gave him. “Oh, all right, you don't gotta be such a wet blanket.” He sighed deeply. “Michael.” 

“I don't understand. Chuck and Amara are both gone, I thought they were the only ones who had the power to bring back an archangel?” Sam asked.

“Wait, Amara? Now that's a name I've not heard in forever. The hell did I miss? And who's Chuck?” 

Sam and Cas exchanged a look. “I think we'd all better sit down,” he said grimly.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry that it's taken me so long to update. I've just not been in a good place mentally, and that makes it hard to want to create. I promise I'm not abandoning this story, but updates might be a little irregular for now. I just want to thank everyone who's left comments and kudos so far, it's really meant a lot that people like the stories I tell.

“Damn. I can't believe I missed seeing Dad. That blows some serious donkey balls.” Gabriel sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I really can't tell you much about how I'm here. All I can tell you is that it had something to do with Michael and an Angel Tablet. Ole' Mikey was pretty tight lipped about the how.” He looked up at the three of them. “He wasn't in Dean when he brought me back. The vessel he was in was just something he grabbed, and it was already showing signs of breaking down then. I remember waking up, and him looking down at me, clapping me on the shoulder. He told me how glad he was that I was back, and that we'd be doing great things, putting things back to rights.” 

“How long have you been back?” Cas asked. “I've heard nothing, not even a whisper on Angel Radio about your return.” 

“That's because I was kinda kept under lock and key, mostly because Mikey didn't wanna let his ace outta the hole. I never had a moment to myself, until just in the last little bit. He told me he was leaving, something about one of his 'plans coming to fruition',” he said, rolling his eyes, “and he left, was gone all day. That was my only chance to get the hell outta Heaven, and I took it.” 

“That must have been when we were in that other realm,” Cas said to Sam, who nodded. 

“So, explain to me, exactly how did Mikey come to be wearing a Dean suit?” 

Sam sighed. “Because my brother is a self-sacrificing coward, that's how.” 

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “Gee, Sam, tell us how you really feel.” 

“It was a trap,” Cas said quietly. “And Michael used me,” he looked at Sam, “us as bait.” 

“I get the feeling I'm missing a key part of the story, here,” Gabriel mused, looking at first Cas, then at Sam. 

Sam glanced at Cas, who shot him a pleading look. He nodded once, and watched relief flit across the angel's face. “That's all that's important, for now. Dean did pray to Cas though. Michael's got him on lockdown, he's awake but trapped in a mental replica of the bunker.” 

“Wow, really? Usually when an angel's driving, the passenger is gone or asleep,” Gabriel mused thoughtfully. 

Sam looked at Cas for confirmation. “He's right. When I still shared this vessel with Jimmy, I kept him asleep, to make it easier for him.” 

“Maybe he's dreaming? Like, lucid dreaming, or something?” Sam asked. 

“It's possible,” Gabriel said, sitting up. “If he is, we might be able to reach him.” 

“That's what Cas said,” Sam said eagerly. “If we can get him to tell us where he is-”

“Sorry, Samalam, but it's not gonna be that easy. First off, while we might be able to reach him, and it's iffy, we could also get busted. I'm sure my brother's figured out I've flown the coop by now, but right now he doesn't know where I am. If I'm to be of any use to you guys, I need to keep it that way a while longer.” His eyes were sad, but kind when he looked at Sam. “I know this sucks, but we can't just go in, guns blazing. That's a good way to end up dead.” 

“What are our options then?” Sam asked. 

“I think Cas might have the best chance to reach him. I can teach him a few tricks to keep him under Michael's radar, but he'll have to keep the visits short. Meanwhile, I think I might know of a way to knock Michael out of Dean, but I need to do some research first.” He looked at Cas. “C'mere, little brother, I need to drop some knowledge on ya.” 

Frowning, Cas stood as Gabriel did, and the shorter man touched two fingers gently to Cas' forehead. Cas closed his eyes briefly, groaning. He jumped when Gabriel's hand reached for his chest, and grunted as light pulsed softly under the archangel's hand briefly. 

“Okay, so I've given you a few things. I taught you a different way to reach Dean, using the bond you two share. It'll make it harder for somebody else to eavesdrop. The other thing,” he said, tapping Cas' chest where his hand had been, “will give your mojo some extra oomph, and will keep Michael from cutting you off from the Host.” 

“So he won't lose his powers?” Sam asked. 

“Nope! The sigil I just popped on your ribs is the same one Metatron used to keep his mojo when he shut the doors to Heaven. You'll still be less powerful than an archangel, but stronger than you were.” 

“Thank you brother,” Cas said. He hesitated for a moment, but then wrapped the smaller man in a tight hug. 

“Aww, now, Cassie, lay off the mushy stuff, you'll make my mascara run,” Gabriel scoffed, a good-natured grin on his face as he hugged his younger sibling back. “Okay, so I've gotta run. I'll be checking back in with you once I know more.” 

“How? Cas and I both have warding to hide us from angels?”

Gabriel looked at Sam, quirking one eyebrow with a smirk. “You really think I can't find you knuckleheads anywhere? Hello, trickster!” He waggled his eyebrows for comedic effect. “Plus, ya know, they have this awesome new invention, maybe you've heard of it...cell phones?” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Kinda hard to call you when I don't have the number, smart ass.” 

“You don't? You sure about that, Samsquatch? Might wanna check again.” 

“Seriously?” Gabriel flapped his hands in a 'go on' gesture. “You've got to be kidding me,” Sam groused, as he and Cas pulled out their phones. As he scrolled through his contacts, he stopped on one that he knew damn well wasn't there before. “Hot wings? Really?” he said, giving the archangel a disgusted look. 

“Would you rather I change it to Daddy? Cuz' I can totally do that-” he cut off, laughing, at Sam's abrupt shout of _fuck no_. 

“Okay, seriously, kids, gotta run. Like I said, I might have an idea to free Dean, but I need to check on some things first. If you find anything out, Cas, give me a shout. Otherwise I'll be checking in with you two in a few days.” 

“Thanks, Gabriel. I, we, appreciate the help,” Sam said, raking a hand through his hair. 

“Yeah, well, I figure I've got a second chance, be a shame to waste it sitting around with my thumb up my ass like last time.” Even though he smiles as he says the words, it doesn't quite reach his eyes, and he looks down as he speaks. 

“I'm proud of you, brother,” Cas says, clasping his shoulder. 

“Thanks, Cassie. Okay, enough emo-teenage bull, see you guys in the funny papers!” He shoots them all a wink, and snaps his fingers, disappearing in a rustle of feathers. 

“Well, now, it's sure never dull around you boys, now is it?” Missouri said, crossing the room to sit in one of the chairs. “If you'da told me when I got up this morning that in one day I'd meet the King of Hell and and archangel, I'd have slapped you silly and called you a liar.” 

Sam grinned ruefully at her, running a hand over his face. “Yeah, welcome to Winchester wonderland.” 

“I don't think this qualifies as a wonderland,” Cas said dryly, sitting down heavily on the couch vacated by Gabriel. 

“So, now what?” Sam asked, sitting on the other end of the couch. 

“We need to give both Gabriel and Ash time to research things on their respective ends. The only other thing we can do now is for me to try and reach Dean,” Castiel answered. 

“What did Gabe mean, that you'd be able to reach him a different way?” Sam asked. 

Cas turned slightly on the couch, facing Sam. “When I pulled Dean's soul from Hell, I had to protect it. The only way to carry it out was to wrap it in my grace, the very essence of myself. When I put him back together, a tiny piece of my grace remained, creating a bond between us.” He paused, frowning. “I'm assuming you knew of the hand print he used to have on his shoulder?” At Sam's nod, he continued. “When I healed him after Stull, I took away the physical mark of that bond. But that tiny piece remains. I can't track him from it,” he said, before Sam could ask, “but it does make it easier for me to reach him when necessary.” 

“So, what, like a Vulcan mind meld or something?” 

Cas smiles briefly. “I actually understood that reference. Yes, and no. It's not like an exchange of equals, per se; it's more like a claim, my grace to his soul, and vice versa.” He pauses for a moment. “The knowledge Gabriel imparted to me showed me a different way to reach out to Dean, instead of dream walking. I will be reaching out to that part of myself that lives within his soul. As he has carried it for so long now, Gabriel thinks it's my best bet to reach Dean without Michael being the wiser.” 

“So it's less like telepathy, and more like findin' somethin' you lost, is that what you're getting at sugar?” Missouri asked. 

“That's not a bad analogy,” Cas nods. He stands then. “I think I'd like to go try now. Is it alright if I use one of the rooms upstairs?” 

“Oh, sugar, you are welcome to anything in the house, you don't gotta ask,” Missouri said kindly. 

“Do you need any help, or want any company?” Sam asked. 

Cas gave him a small smile. “Thank you, but no. I've never done this before, and it might be easier if I were alone, at least the first time.” 

“Fair enough Cas. Just holler if you need anything.” 

With another small smile, and a nod for both, Cas heads upstairs. He goes into the guest room, removing his coat and over shirt. After a moment's thought, he removes his boots, too, and sits on the bed, his feet firmly on the floor and his hands on his knees. He closes his eyes, and concentrates on the feel of his grace inside him, feeling it pulse and swirl. While it's true that angels don't sleep, he does often find comfort in meditation, and as he lets his body relax he feels the familiar peace steal over him. He concentrates on the grace swirling through him, feeling it reach down to his toes, and up through his fingers. He was still, silent. If his grace was a symphony, he was searching for missing notes and phrases. 

 

Tentatively, he finds it, the small hole in the core of his being. Holding on to the feel, he casts his senses outward, letting his grace search for the missing piece of itself. He didn't know how long he sat there. He felt weightless, boneless, as he searched for his grace. He almost missed it, when he did find it. That tiny piece of grace sang to him, calling him like a siren. The feel of it was so unmistakably Dean that Cas felt a small pang in his chest. In his mind's eye, the small piece of grace was like a star, bound with another shining light of emerald green. The bright green swirled and danced around the blue of his grace, making him smile in spite of himself. Carefully, he extended his thoughts toward the swirling green light of Dean's soul. 

_Dean, he called softly._

**Cas?** Cas smiled at the feel of the elder Winchester's surprise. **Cas, buddy, if that's you, please say something, don't let me think I'm finally cracking up in here.**

_I'm sorry, Dean, we're doing all we can to find you. I don't have much time, can you tell me anything, anything at all about where you are or what Michael is doing?_

**Sorry, Cas, I'm as useless as tits on a bull in here. I can't see or do squat. Hell, Michael came through here a while ago and told me even trying to drive off in my imaginary Impala would be considered a breach of contract and give him free range to hunt down you and Sammy.**

_It's all right, Dean. We're working on a way to free you from Michael._

**I knew you guys wouldn't abandon me!**

_Of course not, Dean, don't be silly. But your penchant for self sacrifice is getting annoying._ Cas let humor soak his thoughts, so Dean would know he was teasing. 

**Ha, ha, very funny, from the man who ran from me in Purgatory.**

_That was different. Dean, I don't know how much time we have, so I need to speak quickly. Gabriel is alive. He's the one who's looking for a way to free you. He told me to tell you that if you want to be able to see or hear anything, you need to visualize a window or a doorway._

**The fuck am I supposed to do that?** Confusion filtered across the bond. 

_It is much like meditation. Right now, you're in your own mind, so if you want something there, you should only have to concentrate on it, imagine it there, and it should appear._

**So, what, I could imagine a caramel pecan pie, and it'd just show up? Cause that'd be awesome.**

Cas smiled in spite of himself. _Yes, something like that. It won't be easy, but the more you do it, the easier it gets. Start small, visualize that pie you spoke of, and work up from there._

Dean was quiet for a moment, obviously processing. When his voice filtered through, it was soft and hopeful. **Would I be able to visualize people, too?**

_I...I suppose so, Dean. They wouldn't really be there, but if you thought hard enough, it's possible to create a facsimile of someone in your mind, yes. Why?_

**Not gonna lie, Cas, being trapped in my own head without you and Sam...it's rough. I miss you guys.**

_We miss you too. I wanted to tell you, I can hear your prayers. You can talk to me anytime, Dean. I'll try to contact you this way as often as I am able, I promise._

**Thanks, Cas, that's...that means a lot.**

_I have to go Dean, but if you need me, pray. I'll hear it. I'll talk to you soon._

**Bye, Cas.** The bond sang with sadness, the bright green dimming. 

_Goodbye, Dean._

With a sigh, Cas retreated back into himself, but it was hard. He longed to wrap himself around that bright light, to bask in the glory of Dean's soul. But it was too dangerous. He didn't know yet if his 'visit' had gone undetected or not. At least now, they had the beginnings of a plan, and he had a way to speak to Dean, and Dean to him. He felt a small flicker of hope flutter in his chest, small but warm. With a smile, he stood, heading for the stairs to tell Sam and Missouri of his success. 

~~  
Dean flopped back onto his bed. He'd bolted upright when he'd first heard Cas' voice in his head, unsure if he was actually hearing the angel or if he was losing his damn mind. But if it was fake, it was hard to tell. It was odd, it was almost like he'd felt the man here in the room with him, while they talked in their heads. 

Visualize. Cas said to start small. He sat up on the edge of his bed, and smiled. He'd start with that pie. He closed his eyes, and simply thought, _pie_. He snapped open his eyes, and was immediately disappointed. _Okay,_ he thought. _Maybe I need a little more detail than that._ He pictured the caramel pecan pie. The warm flaky crust, the caramel dripping from in between pecans. The explosions of flavor on his tongue when he lifted a forkful to his mouth. The smell of sweet and salt. He groaned aloud, remembering the texture, the taste of it. Slowly he opened his eyes, and grinned with delight. Sitting on the edge of his bed was the pie, still steaming gently as if fresh from the oven. Dean couldn't help himself, he stood up and fist pumped the air, pleased with himself. “Fuck yeah, that's awesome,” he crowed. He couldn't wait to tell Cas. Oh hell, he'd heard his prayers, he didn't have to wait. 

_Cas, buddy, I tried it, and it worked! I made a pie appear outta thin air! It was fucking amazing. I haven't tried it yet, but just the fact that I made it appear was freakin' awesome. I wish you'd been here to see it. Anyways, sorry if I've caught you at a bad time, or whatever, I just had to tell someone._

Still grinning like an idiot, he snapped his eyes shut and visualized a fork to eat his new pie with.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so, this was way too long in coming, and I'm sorry for that. Depression sucks. Hopefully it won't be such a long time between updates from here on out, I've pretty much got the ending in sight. Thanks for all who's stuck with me this far, I hope it's still as good as when I started.

A few days later, not much else had happened. Sam and Cas had been stuck spinning their wheels, waiting on either Gabriel to show back up or Crowley to call. As much as Cas wanted to speak to Dean again, he hadn't, mostly because while Gabriel had assured him that it would be much harder for Michael to know about it, he didn't want to take unnecessary risks if he didn't have to. His own selfish need to hear Dean's voice was secondary to his safety. For his part, Dean had actually been working on visualizing, praying to Cas sometimes two and three times a day just to tell him of his progress. Cas smiled when he remembered the first time, the excitement and pride in Dean's thoughts, when he managed to visualize a pie. He'd laughed outright when Dean had prayed to tell him of creating a fountain of cheeseburgers. He'd prayed last night that he was going to try to visualize a window today, his previous success finally giving him the courage to try. It would be the hardest thing he'd done, because not only would he have to create the window, but he'd essentially be creating a window to his own self, enabling him to see what Michael did. 

Castiel had never had occasion to hate prayer before. It had always been a simple way for his charges to reach him, a way that couldn't be overheard when they prayed to him directly. However, while it was a comfort to hear Dean's voice, it was a torture, the one sided communication leaving Cas feeling hollow. Dean was stuck in his own head, and spoke to Cas often, sometimes telling of his successes, and others just talking about things he missed, or how much he hated being stuck in his private version of the bunker. The ones that hurt the most were when he talked about how much he missed Sam. He'd tell Cas stories about when they were younger. Cas had grinned as Dean had told of how Sam fell out of a tree while trying to impress a girl he liked, landing wrong and breaking his arm. 

_Shit, Cas, you should have seen it, here's this gangly fourteen year old moose, he was already as tall as me, but skinny as a rail, swinging from this tree branch like ten feet off the ground. This girl he liked, she was laughing, and telling him to get down, but he was making all these monkey noises and faces at her and being a dumbass. He tried to swing his legs up and over the branch, he told me later he was gonna try and hang from his knees, but he lost his grip and fell, landing on his arm wrong. Of course, he scared the shit out of me at first, because it'd knocked the wind out of him and I thought he wasn't breathing. That chick, man, she fawned over him like he was just the most precious thing in this world, and that asshole ate it up, just being all stoic and shit like he'd just gotten a bruise instead of breaking his freakin' arm! She planted a big ol' smooch on him right before I dragged him to the hospital, so he told me later it was all worth it. Big sap. Course, Dad wasn't all that happy when he found out what happened...but it was funny, anyways._

As Dean told the story, Castiel had felt Dean's warmth, amusement, and he'd smiled, feeling a similar warmth building in his chest. He'd told Sam about it the next morning, who'd groaned, 'I can't believe he told you that!' Sam then went on to tell him about the time when Dean had walked into a light pole because he was too busy checking out a pretty girl that had passed them on the street. 

Sometimes Dean was more contemplative in his speech, talking about the ones they'd lost. His solitude had forced him to contemplate what he thought of as his greatest failures, and he told them to Castiel. While he was grateful that Dean felt he could share them with him, his heart broke at the amount of guilt and shame Dean carried with him. He knew that Dean carried a heavy load in his heart all the time, but even he hadn't realized the depth of the elder Winchester's self blame and guilt. If he hadn't known how he felt about Dean before, the way Dean opened up to him now would have. It was a curious feeling, this want. He wanted nothing more than to wrap Dean in his arms, to hold him close, to make him understand that he was loved, that he was worthy, that he was _everything _good. The need was almost like a physical ache, an itch that he couldn't scratch. He thought he was doing well at hiding it from Sam, but Missouri was a different story. It seemed almost every time she looked at him, it was with pity and understanding, and it made Castiel want to run, fly away every time he saw it.__

He was sitting in Missouri's sitting room, staring down at the pages of a book, but not really seeing it when Dean called to him. 

_Cas, man, if you're not busy, if you could talk to me, it'd be great. I'm going a little stir-crazy here in my own head. I'm about to try making that window, and I wish you could be here with me, if you could. If you can't, it's not big deal. I just miss you._

Cas was thankful that Sam was out and Missouri was working in her garden, because he didn't have to make any excuses when he bolted up the stairs. He laid down on the bed in what he'd come to think of as his room, and closed his eyes. It took him a long moment to tamp down his excitement and nerves enough to concentrate, to send his grace out searching for the lost piece held within Dean. Soon, his mind's eye found the piece of his grace entwined with the bright green of Dean's soul, and he reached out to Dean with his thoughts. 

_Hello, Dean._

**Cas!** Dean's thoughts were full of pleased surprise. **I didn't know if you'd be able to, but it's damn good to hear your voice man, you have no idea.**

_I'm sorry Dean, I've wanted to do this more often, but I'm afraid of Michael catching on. But I've heard all your prayers, like I promised. You were never alone._

**I know, Cas, and I'm glad. But it's awesome to have an actual conversation, too. Nice to hear your voice that's not just my imagination, you know?**

Humor tinged Cas' reply. _You've been imagining me speaking to you? What have I been saying?_

Dean was silent for a long moment, and Cas laughed aloud at the feeling of horror that Dean felt pulsing through the bond. **Dude, it's not funny,** came the eventual reply, as Dean felt Cas' amusement. 

_It's a little funny. I miss you too, Dean._

**Shut up, sap.** Dean's words were tinged with a fond sarcasm and Cas could imagine Dean rolling his eyes. 

_Are you still planning to try the window today?_

Dean was quiet for a moment before he spoke. **I know I said I was going to Cas, but honestly man...I'm scared. As much as it sucks being stuck in here, I'm afraid of what I'm gonna see if I make it work. What if he's like, killing people or something? Knowing that he's doing that, that, in a way, it's me, and seeing it through my eyes...I don't know if I can deal with that, Cas.**

_No one would think any less of you, Dean, if you didn't do it. We're already working on ways to free you, you don't have to do it if you don't want to._

**I know, Cas, but I'd think less of me, you know? Like I was too chickenshit to man up and do what needed to be done. I've never backed down from anything, even when I probably should have.**

Cas let his irritation seep through. _Dean, you have nothing to prove to anyone. The sheer amount of things you managed to accomplish, the lives you've saved...that alone should be enough to prove your courage to even the most jaded man. You don't need to do this, if you don't wish to. I'd honestly rather you didn't._

**I don't wanna let you guys down. What if Ash can't pull through on his end, and this was the only way to find out where Michael is and what he's up to?**

_Then don't do it now. We're still waiting on both Gabriel and Crowley to get back in touch. It can wait until we have something more concrete in place. And if you still wish to do this at a later time, I will be with you, if you wish. But don't do it now. Wait._

**...I feel like a failure, Cas.**

_You're not, Dean. You've never been a failure to me. I wish you could see yourself as I do, Dean._

**Sometimes I wish I could too, Cas. I wish I could see you, and Sammy. It's hard, so hard being here on my own.**

_I know, Dean. But I'm always here, I'm always listening. If it gets too much to bear, call for me, and I will come, I will be there for you, as often as you need. Michael can go fuck himself._

Cas wasn't expecting the laughter that warmed the bond, but it warmed him all the same. He pictured Dean, his head thrown back, his eyes crinkled, and it made him smile. _I'm glad that I amuse you,_ he thought dryly. 

**Cas, man, I'm sorry, just, you like, never curse, and hearing you say that about Michael...aww man, that was awesome. I needed that, thanks Cas.**

Dimly, Castiel registered Sam calling his name. _I've got to go, Dean, Sam is calling for me. But I meant what I said. If you need me, reach out to me, and I will come._

**I know, Cas. Thanks. Tell Sam 'hi bitch' and that I miss him.**

_I will Dean._

**And Cas? I...never mind.**

_What is it Dean?_

**It's nothing, Cas, don't worry about it. Go see Sam. If you're lucky, he's heard from somebody.**

_Very well, Dean. Again, call if you need me._

**I will, Cas.**

With great reluctance, Cas let his grace slip back into himself, already missing the feel of connection with Dean. He opened his eyes to see Sam leaning over him, hand reaching out, as if he was in the act of shaking him. 

“There you are! I was calling for you forever man, where were you? Were you talking to Dean?” 

“Yes,” Castiel answered, as he sat up. “He said to tell you 'hi bitch', and that he misses you.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Of course he did,” he huffed. “Anyways, come downstairs, I think I might have found something.” 

As the two headed downstairs, Cas felt the prickle of otherworldly energy. “Sam, someone is here,” he said, flicking his angel blade into his palm. “Where's Missouri?” 

__Sam looked at him quickly, his eyebrows raised in question, but pulled his gun as they descended the stairs. “She went to the store,” he said. As they hit the bottom stair, Cas saw Sam's shoulders relax as he put his gun away. “It's Crowley,” he said._ _

__“Ah, Moose, Feathers, just the two idiots I was looking for. I have news.” Crowley stood in the center of the living room, hands in his pockets._ _

__“That doesn't sound like it's good news,” Cas answered, putting away his angel blade._ _

__“Then that means you're not as stupid as I give you credit for,” Crowley replied with a smirk. “Heaven is all abuzz, because apparently Michael's tenuous grip on his sanity is slipping.”_ _

__“What does that mean, Crowley?” Sam asked._ _

__“It means that Michael's behavior has gotten,” he paused, as if searching for the word, “erratic.”_ _

__Sam rolled his eyes. “Can you just stop with the overly dramatic reveal, and tell us what's going on?”_ _

__“Aww, what's wrong Samantha, getting separation anxiety already? I would have thought that would be our dear Castiel first.” At the twin glares he received, he smiled. “You lot are so easy to rile up, I simply can't help myself.” He paused, and his face lost all traces of humor. “Michael wasn't all there when he broke out of the cage. Now that he's gained control of Heaven, you'd think if he was serious about restarting the apocalypse his main focus would be on finding Lucifer, not forcing the angels into tableaux of his favorite fairy tales.”_ _

__“He's doing what?” Sam asked, his eyebrows almost to his hairline._ _

__“Word is that Michael has gotten creative with angels who disagree with him. Instead of the wholesale slaughter he started with, now he forces them to act out parts in fairy tales, and he casts the ones he's most displeased with as the villains, and when they die in the story, they die for real.”_ _

__Sam and Cas looked at each other, faces grim. “I know you just talked to him, but you need to go tell Dean.”_ _

__“Sam, I don't know if that's-” Cas started, but Sam cut him off._ _

__“You know he'll feel more guilty if we didn't tell him, and he didn't try to do something to stop it. If we keep it from him, it'll be worse than if we didn't.”_ _

__Cas looked at him sadly for a moment, then nodded. “You're right,” he sighed. He looked over at Crowley. “Is there anything else we need to know?”_ _

__“Rumor is that he's found Lucifer, but he's having trouble keeping him. Seems every time he locates the Morningstar's current vessel, the clever little buggar just slips right out of his fingers.”_ _

__“Well, that's something, at least. I'm gonna call Ga-,” Sam caught himself, “our contact, and see if they've found anything.”_ _

__“You sound like you're holding out, Samantha. Aren't you gonna share with the class? I have, after all, been very forthcoming with you,” Crowley said, a slight edge to his voice._ _

__“The only thing I can tell you is that we have a contacts, too. I can't reveal their identity right now, it's too dangerous for them and for us. But that person might have a way to force Michael out of Dean. Only downside is that it won't kill him, so we still need a way to either kill him or neutralize him,” Sam replied._ _

__“I might be able to help with that. I'll consult with dear old mother, and see what I can come up with. Call me if you find anything else,” Crowley said, and vanished._ _

__Cas looked at Sam, his expression troubled. “While this buys us some time, I hate to think how my brethren are suffering in Heaven under Michael's reign.”_ _

__“I know, Cas. But one problem at a time, okay? Besides, it's not like we can go up to Heaven, guns blazing, you know? But if we can stop Michael, the rest will stop too. It's the best we've got,” Sam sighed. “I'm gonna go call Gabriel, you go talk to Dean. Then we'll compare notes, okay? See where we are.”_ _

__Cas nodded, and headed for the stairs. Sam pulled out his phone and called Gabriel. “Gabriel? Tell me you've found something.”_ _

__“I've done better than that, Samsquatch,” came a voice from behind him._ _

__Sam turned to find Gabriel smirking at him. He rolled his eyes before hanging up on the call and shoving his phone back in his pocket. “And?”_ _

__“Check it out.” He held up a long, flat box. The wood looked like teak, or something equally expensive. There were no clasps, but when Gabriel gently pulled, Sam could see the near invisible seam as the top of the box came off. Inside lay what looked like a long animal horn, gently curved and twisted._ _

__“What is it?” Sam asked, his hand out as if to touch, but reluctant to do so. He could practically feel the age and power radiating off the thing._ _

__“Something I thought was lost. Took me forever to track it down, too.” Gabriel traced a finger down the item, a fond smile on his face. “It's my horn.”_ _

__“Your horn?” Confusion was evident in Sam's voice._ _

__“Yeah, you know, 'Horn of Gabriel'? Announcing the end of the world?”_ _

__“I thought that was just that sigil.”_ _

__“Nope! The sigil just draws on the power of this beauty. But this is the real deal.”_ _

__“But, won't that actually set something off, if you use it?”_ _

__“Nah, it doesn't actually work that way. It does have the power to rally the angels, but it also has the power to drive angels away.” He looked up a Sam, a wicked smirk making his eyes twinkle. “So we're gonna blow Michael away.” He snickered. “Literally.”_ _

__“Gabriel, man, that's awesome. But will it trap him, too?”_ _

__“Ah, no, unfortunately. This is just to get him out. Only problem now is how to get close enough to use it. Have to at least be in the same room for it to work.”_ _

__Sam huffed out a breath. “Okay. When Missouri is back we can try to contact Pamela and Ash again, see if they've found anything on their end. Cas went to talk to Dean. Oh, and Crowley was just here, said that Michael is having trouble finding Lucifer. Well,” he amended, “keeping Lucifer. Seems every time he tracks down the vessel he's currently using, Lucifer smokes out before he can be caught.”_ _

__“Yeah, he's not stupid. That's what makes him so dangerous.” Gabriel rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It buys us some time, though. There might be a way we can neutralize Mike's powers long enough to force him out. It won't kill him though, so he'd be free to take another vessel or even head back to Heaven.”_ _

__“Would holy oil work?”_ _

__“Doubt it. Besides, if he's cracked an Angel tablet, odds are good he knows how to get out of it. There might be another way, but it'd be really old, like, pre-Biblical Enochian magic. I'm kinda rusty, but problem is only way I could research it would be upstairs, and I am persona non grata up there right now.”_ _

__“Ash said he was looking into something like that too, he may have found something. Or you might be able to tell him where to look, when we talk to him, if you can stay.”_ _

__“I got nowhere else to be, at the moment, but if I'm camping out, we need to put up some sigils, help mask my presence, a bit. Cas hasn't tripped the radar yet, partly because of that nifty tattoo he's got, and partly because they don't care where he is at the moment. I'm another story, I'm pretty sure the angels Mike's got looking out for Luci were probably told to hunt for me, too.”_ _

__“Wouldn't that same tattoo help hide you too?”_ _

__“Probably not. Archangels are on a whole other power level from Seraphs. Think of it like this, you can hide a candle under a bucket, but that same bucket won't do squat to hide a forest fire.”_ _

__“Yeah, okay, I can see that.” Sam sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. “I hate feeling like everything is so up in the air, when all I wanna do is go find my brother.”_ _

__Gabe's face softened. “Yeah, I get that, kiddo, I do. But if there's ever a time for planning for contingencies, this is it.”_ _

__“I wanna thank you,” Sam said, his mouth quirking up in half a smile. “I know it's a lot to have to go against your brothers, again. But I appreciate it.”_ _

__“Don't get your hopes up yet, kiddo, we still gotta whole lot of 'ifs' to work out, first. But save the thanks for when this shit actually works. So,” he pulled a sucker out of his jacket pocket, pulling off the wrapper and popping it in his mouth, “How mad would Missouri be if we used hot pink spray paint to put up the sigils?” He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned around the sucker at Sam._ _

__“I think a better question would be how much do you value your balls? 'Cause I'm pretty sure she would figure out a way to remove them if you did that.” Sam laughed at the look of horror that stole across Gabriel's face. “Dude, if you could see your face right now,” he cackled._ _

__“Can it, dick. I wasn't _really_ gonna use pink spray paint,” he muttered. “But I will have to use blood though.” _ _

__“Yeah, you might wanna wait for her to get home, first.”_ _

__“Until those sigils are up, I don't wanna spend too much time in one place. Give me a call when she gets back?”_ _

__“Sure, Gabriel. I won't even tell her your plan A,” Sam grinned at the pained look on Gabriel's face, before he disappeared._ _


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry it's taken hell and forever to update this fic. My laptop died, and it took forever to get the stuff off the hard drive so I wouldn't lose everything I'd already written. Thanks to those of you who've stuck around so far, and please feel free to yell at me for the wait in the comments.

_Hello, Dean._

The voice caught him by surprise, since he'd just talked to Cas a short time ago. He sat up on his bed, where he'd been listening to music. **Cas? Is everything okay? Is Sammy okay?** He couldn't help the note of worry that crept into his thoughts.

_We are fine, here, Dean, don't worry. Unfortunately, I don't have good news._

Dean could feel the trepidation through the link. Whatever Cas had come to tell him, it wasn't gonna be pretty. **What is it, Cas?**

_Michael has been...busy in Heaven._

**Cas, man, just spit it out already.**

_He's torturing angels, Dean. He's forcing them to act out parts in fairy tales. And the characters that die in the stories...those angels die as well._

Dean swallowed hard. He could feel the sorrow coming from Cas, knew that he didn't want to tell him this. **So, what you're telling me is, that feathered dickwad is running around in my meat suit hurting people?**

_Hurting angels, but yes. I'm so sorry, Dean. I didn't want to tell you, but Sam was insistent._

Dean sighed heavily. While angels (other than Cas) were nowhere near his favorite people, he didn't like the thought of Michael using his body to hurt others. **Did Sam have any news?**

_He was calling Gabriel when I came upstairs to reach you. But we are contacting Pamela Barnes again when Missouri gets home._

When Dean spoke again, his voice was hard and determined. **After you're done, come back to me. We're gonna open that window.**

_Dean, it's not necess-_

Dean cut him off sharply. **Yes, Cas, it is. I refuse to sit here while my body is off hurting people. Not when I can do something about it.** His voice softened then. **But I'd still like you with me, when I try.**

_Of course, Dean._

**Good. Go back to Sam, see what he's found out. I'll be here waiting for you to get back.**

_I'll talk to you soon, Dean._

With a shake of his head, Dean shivered against the feeling of emptiness that swept through him after talking with Cas. He missed the angel's presence already, but if he was honest with himself, just hearing his voice wasn't enough. He missed Cas. Missed his stupid too big trench coat, with his messy hair and tie askew. Although here lately when he pictured Cas, he thought back to the day they took those pictures, when Cas wore his clothes. It had shocked him, the zing of possession that sang through him when he'd seen Cas in his stuff. He wondered if Cas had went back to his normal stuff, or if he was still wearing Dean's clothes. He grinned at the thought of it, and secretly hoped that he was. 

A thought suddenly occurred to him. He'd asked Cas if he could visualize people, and while Cas had said it was possible, it wouldn't really be them, just a copy. Still, if he could pull it off, it would at least make it seem like he had company, even if there really wasn't anybody there. At this point he was so desperate to see anybody he was willing to try it. He blew out a breath, resting his elbows on his knees. When he'd made that pie, it'd looked so perfect. It'd smelled awesome, but he chuckled to himself at the memory of that first bite. It'd tasted like nothing. It'd been a valuable lesson. If he wanted something, he had to think about all the parts of it. When he'd made it, he'd thought of how it looked, what it'd smelled like, all the visual and sensory details but one. So he'd tried again and again, until he got it right. 

Using that same logic, if he wanted to bring a copy of Sam or Cas to life, he'd have to get as many details right as possible. At least in the privacy of his own mind, he'd never have to explain why he chose Cas over Sam. He told himself that it was simply because he wanted to see Cas' face when they spoke. He closed his eyes and starting thinking of all the little details that made Cas, well, Cas. He thought of the messy just-been-fucked hair he'd always seemed to sport. It'd been worse when he'd first met the angel, now at least he made an effort to try and tame it. Either way, the chocolate brown locks always seemed so soft, and were the perfect frame for those impossibly blue eyes. Blue like October skies, bracketed with small crow's feet that crinkled when he'd squint. Which was often, or at least it seemed to Dean. Or possibly because of Dean. Next was the full lips, which seemed perpetually chapped, which could spread to reveal even white teeth on the rare occasion when the angel smiled. Cas, he'd noticed, always seemed to smile more with his eyes than his mouth, but it didn't stop Dean from spending an inappropriate amount of time looking at his lips. He shivered, remembering the feel of those lips against his, when he'd kissed him in that castle. Those lips had been so soft under his, warm and supple. 

_Jesus, Dean, focus,_ he thought to himself, shaking his head. He almost pictured the angel in his trench coat and suit, but at the last minute changed his mind, imagining Cas in the flannel shirt and jeans he'd wore that last day. Dean was a little broader shouldered than Cas, so the shirt had been a little loose, but not terribly so; the jeans, however, were another story. Cas, with Jimmy Novak's lean runner's build, had had to wear a belt to keep Dean's jeans up on his narrow hips. He grinned, remember how Cas had complained about the fit of the pants. 

_”Dean, they don't fit.”_

_”I know, Cas, that's what the belt is for. And I don't get what you're bitching about, you have to wear a belt with your pants, because I know for a fact that those are too big, too.”_

_”I'm at least accustomed to how my pants fit, Dean,” Cas had deadpanned, making a face._

Dean chuckled again to himself, and suddenly missed the angel so much it hurt, a physical ache in his chest. He sighed, and concentrated once again, examining the facsimile of Cas he'd built in his mind's eye. _All the details,_ he reminded himself. In his mind's eye, Cas looked much as he did that last day, wearing a soft green flannel, with the sleeves rolled up to just below the elbows, the jeans soft and faded from too many washes. Surprisingly, he and Cas wore the same shoe size, so he'd borrowed an older pair of Dean's boots. The boots were old and worn down, scuffed, but to an angel who didn't really feel discomfort, the boots worked just fine. When all the visual details were as perfect as he could make them, he thought next about the angel's voice, that honey over gravel rumble that was so uniquely Cas. He thought about his smell, that odd combination of cinnamon and watermelon, that shouldn't go together but somehow did. 

He thought then about Cas himself, his kindness, his fondness for bees, how under the gruff exterior was this dorky guy, who was loyal to a fault and genuinely cared about others. He'd grown and changed so much in the time Dean had known him, becoming his own person rather than the soldier Heaven had wanted him to be. He hadn't always made good decisions; but hell, neither had Dean. Yet his choices, right or wrong, always came from a place of trying to do the right thing. He grinned to himself at how lately Cas had been showing more of a sense of humor, even if it was on the dry and sarcastic side. Even thought it had embarrassed the hell out him, Dean had still felt his mouth go dry and his heart give a painful thump at the sight and sound of Cas full out laughing in that big box store they'd gone to getting stuff for that apartment. It was a sight he'd never seen before, and it had shaken him to see it. He desperately wanted to see it again, even if it was at his own expense. 

His heart gave another painful thump as he opened his eyes, and saw Cas standing in front of him. His version of Cas tilted his head to the side, giving a small smile, before opening his mouth to speak. “Hello, Dean.” 

~~

“You mean to tell me this foolishness has to be done in blood?” Missouri glared at Gabriel, hands on her hips. 

“Well, if you want it to work, then yes. Otherwise there's no point to it. But I promise,” Gabriel pleaded, hands out in a placating gesture, “as soon as this is all over, I'll put everything back just the way it was, like it never happened.” 

Missouri turned her glare on Sam next. “This is the only way?”

Sam swallowed thickly, before nodding. “Yeah, Missouri. Blood's always been one of the more powerful components in spell work, and an archangel's blood would be pretty damn up there. Until we have everything in place, it's either this or Gabriel has to keep moving every twenty minutes or so.” 

She sighed heavily, annoyance still in the set of her shoulders. “Fine,” she said, before wagging a finger at Gabriel and Sam. “But I ain't touchin' nobody's blood, ya hear me? That's just nasty.” She reached out and actually poked Gabriel in the chest, hard enough to rock him back on his heels. “And you better keep your word about cleanin' up my house after this is all done, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, ma'am.” Gabriel grinned at her, waggling his eyebrows at her. 

“Hmph. I'm gonna go get supper started. Don't you dare get blood anywhere unnecessary.” With a last glare at the two of them, she turned and walked toward the kitchen. 

“Oh, I like her. She reminds me of Kali,” Gabriel said with a fond smile. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Let's get this done, huh? We still gotta lot of work to do.” 

“Yeah, yeah, Samsquatch, keep your panties on,” Gabriel grumbled good naturedly. From seemingly nowhere he produced an old bronze bowl and a wicked looking knife. He took off his jacket, setting it aside, then rolled up the sleeve of his right arm. Serious now, he locked eyes with Sam briefly before drawing the sharp edge of the knife down the inside of his forearm, using his grace to keep the wound open so that the blood would drip steadily into the bowl. When the bowl was a little over half full, he swiped a thumb over the cut, healing it, and pulled a sheet of paper from his back pocket. 

“I'm gonna split this into two bowls, but this is the set of symbols you need to draw. They need to go over every entrance, doors, windows, anywhere there's a gap to the outside. Needs to be both upstairs and downstairs, and if she's got an attic or a basement needs to go there too.” 

Sam nodded as he took the paper, studying the symbols intently. “I'll start upstairs,” he said absently. He looked up at Gabriel. “I don't think she's got a basement, but I think there's a small attic. I'll check while I'm up there.” 

Gabriel merely nodded, as he poured about half of his blood from one bowl to another that he'd apparently conjured from thin air. He handed it to Sam. “Give me a yell when you're done, so I can check to make sure we're covered. I mean,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I should be able to feel it, but I'll be honest, since I've been back I'm still a little off.” 

“Gabriel, it's fine, we'll make it work.” He smiled at the smaller man, and taking the bowl and the sheet of paper, he headed for the stairs. 

Sam started at the top of the stairs, remembering how Gabriel said to hit all entrances and exits. Although the stairs were open, it could still be considered an entrance, so he figured better safe than sorry. He consulted the sheet, making sure he'd gotten all the symbols right, before moving on to the lintels over the three bedroom doors. He'd finished the one over Missouri's doorway and his, and was reaching up to get the one over Cas' when the door opened suddenly, startling him. He barely managed to catch the bowl before it spilled, but some slopped over the rim. He was weirdly relieved that the blood slopped onto his shirt, instead of the floor. He looked up at Cas, who blinked at him owlishly. 

“Ah, Sam, sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.” The angel had the grace to look embarassed. 

“It's fine, Cas, no harm done,” Sam said, smiling. “Just trying to get the upstairs done, Gabriel's working on the downstairs.” 

“Would you like some help?”

“Uh, sure, Gabriel gave me a cheat sheet,” Sam said, starting to hand over the paper. 

“That's not necessary, Sam,” Cas said gently. He looked up at the symbols Sam had already painted. “I can see what it is, I think I understand it.” 

“Oh, okay, then. Lemme get this last doorway up here, then we have to do the windows, you can help me with that, if you want.” He smiled sheepishly. “I've only got the one bowl.” 

Cas gave him a small smile. “That's fine.” 

Swiftly, Sam finished the symbols over Cas' doorway, and went inside to do the window sills, Cas following close behind. He offered Cas the bowl, before dipping his own fingers into the blood to start drawing symbols over the right side of the double window. Cas followed suit, working the the left side. They worked quietly, but efficiently. Finishing quickly, they moved on to Sam's room. Soon, that room was finished as well, and all that was left was Missouri's room and the attic. As they worked on painting the symbols around Missouri's windows, Sam spoke, his tone light. 

“So, are you ever going to tell my brother that you love him?”

Cas jerked, smudging the symbol he'd just drawn. With a scowl, he used a bit of his grace to erase the mistake. “Sam, I believe this falls under the realm of none of your business,” he growled. 

“Cas,” Sam sighed, “I know it's not my place-”

“No, Sam, it's not.”

Sam paused at the uncharacteristic bite in Cas' tone. He looked over at the smaller man, who steadfastly refused to look at him. 

“Can I say one thing? I promise, I'll let it drop after that.” 

Cas' hands stilled, his shouldered hunched. Slowly his shoulders relaxed, but he still wouldn't look at Sam. “Very well,” he said softly. 

“You guys really have something special. You've been dancing around each other for years, and I want nothing more than for you guys to be happy. You deserve it. Hell, Dean deserves it. And I know that what makes you two happy is each other.”

“Dean doesn't feel that way about me, Sam.” 

“How do you know? Have you ever talked to him about it?” 

“I don't have to.” 

“That seems a little unfair, don't you think? What if Dean feels the same way, but he's like you, he thinks it's not something you'd want, and you're both determined to be miserable because neither of you will make the first move?” 

Cas stopped, and looked up at Sam. His blue eyes were full of misery. “And what if it's not? Your brother has a serious aversion to anything involving feelings. Add to that his father's deeply ingrained homophobia, which has affected how Dean sees himself, I don't believe Dean could ever admit any feelings he might have for me, no matter how I tell him that angels are genderless waves of celestial intent.”

Sam sighed deeply. “I know. Dad definitely wasn't shy sharing his opinions on the subject,” he said bitterly. “I told him I wasn't Dad, I didn't care who he loved.” He looked up at Cas. “I told him that loving you didn't make him gay, or straight, it just was love, and that's all that mattered.” 

Cas was quiet for a moment. “What did he say?” he asked, softly. 

Sam gave a wry smile. “I'd just upended his worldview, so his brain had short circuited and had to reboot.” His smiled got a little bigger at Cas' quiet huff of laughter. “So, he didn't really say much.” 

“But he didn't immediately deny me?” Hope tinged the angel's voice, and Sam smiled again at the sound. 

“Nope,” he grinned. 

“I'll...I'll have to think on it, Sam. But, thank you.” Cas gave Sam a small smile. “I don't feel I say it enough, but you're a good friend.” 

“No problem, Cas. Just do me a favor, huh?” 

Cas looked up at Sam, head slightly tilted to the side. “If it's within my power to do so, you know I'll do anything I can to help you.” 

“Before you guys decide to consummate anything, give me time to put on my noise canceling headphones, huh? Because there are some things I don't need to hear,” Sam finished with a grin, that only grew wider at the horrified and disgruntled look on the angel's face. 

“I believe,” Cas said stiffly, turning back to finish the symbol he was working on, “to borrow something Dean would say, 'you can go eat a bag of dicks'.” 

Sam's bellowing laughter only got louder as Cas's scowl got bigger. 

~~

“Okay, so, seems like we've got everything we need now, right?” Gabriel asked. 

“Well, I think so. Good thing Ash was able to find that sigil, he said he'd have never been able to find it if you hadn't given him some ideas of where to look,” Sam said, rubbing a hand over his tired face. Next to him Missouri yawned. He felt a pang of guilt, having so many seances in such a short time frame had to be rough on her. 

She snorted and gave him the stink eye, apparently catching his thought. “I'm a big girl, Sam Winchester, I'll be fine. I can sleep when I'm dead.” 

“I know, Missouri, but-” 

“But nothin', sugar. You came to me for help, I'm helping. God gave me a gift, and I intend to use it. 'Sides, I love that boy, even if he makes stupid choices. So no more guilty thoughts, you hear?” She held Sam's gaze until he sheepishly nodded. “That goes for you too,” she said, cutting sharp eyes over to Cas. 

Cas opened his mouth as if to speak, then caught Sam's tiny head shake and stopped. “Yes ma'am,” he said, a small smile on his face. 

“Okay, so, we've got the sigil now, we've got the Horn, have we heard back from Crowley yet?” Gabriel sat back in his chair, a sucker tucked into the corner of his mouth. 

“Ah, missing me already, darling? Daddy wasn't gone that long.” Crowley walked through the dining room doorway with a smirk, casually pulling out a chair and seating himself upon it as if it were a throne. 

“So, I take it you have something?” Castiel asked, frowning at the demon. 

“Mother and I have come up with a spell, that will put Michael back in the Pit.” 

Silence reigned at the table for a long moment, before Gabriel spoke. “Not a fan.” 

“He's too dangerous to leave topside, surely you can see that,” Crowley drawled.

“Gabe, I know he's your brother, but, as much as I hate to say it, I think Crowley's right. We can't just leave him loose, it's too dangerous.” 

Heat filled the archangel's eyes. “Oh yeah? What if it were Dean, huh, Sam? Would you be so eager to just throw **your** brother into the Pit? Back into Hell, again?” he spat. 

“No, I wouldn't, but it's not like I don't know what sacrifice is, Gabe...”

“Oh, you Winchesters, all that talk about the greater good but you two boneheads can't stop breaking the world to feed your codependency. You've both done truly, epically stupid things because you just couldn't live without the other. And you wanna argue with me when I say I'm not cool with sending my mentally ill brother back to the place that broke his head in the first place?” In his anger, Gabriel's power swelled, filling the room. A golden light seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, allowing the shadows of a large pair of wings to form on the wall behind him. 

“Sugar, we haven't decided anything. And bein' angry ain't gonna help nobody. Just because the King a'Hell came up with something, don't mean we have to use it.” 

Missouri's soft voice was gentle and soothing. Gabriel glared at Sam and Crowley for another moment, before sighing in defeat. He nodded at Missouri as the power faded, until he slumped back into his chair. 

Missouri looked at Castiel, who'd remained silent so far. “What happens if an angel loses their power?”

“We become mortal,” he said quietly. “If we took Michael's grace, he'd be just a man.” 

“I like that plan a helluva lot better than throwing him back in the cage,” Gabriel said. 

“Mortal, yes, but still dangerous. Still with followers in Heaven, who'd still have their grace. As Castiel has proven, you can do much with the grace of another angel, even if it weren't their own.” Crowley leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers in front of his chin. “As much as I love playing devil's advocate,” he paused, snickering at his own joke, “I say again, he's too dangerous to leave loose, and being mortal wouldn't be that big of an impediment.” 

Castiel had paled when Crowley brought up his use of stolen grace, and he looked down at the table, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. 

“I won't put my brother back in the cage; it's not happening, end of story. I will, however, be okay with taking his grace and making him mortal. When he's mortal, I can take care of him, keep him out of trouble.” Gabriel's face was hard, all trace of humor gone, as he made eye contact with Crowley, Sam, and Missouri. “He'll be my responsibility, but he's not going back to the place that made him lose his marbles in the first place.” 

Crowley held his hands up in a gesture of defeat, a look of annoyance stamped across his face. “Very well, I'll have to speak to Mother about a different spell, then. And you've made this a lot more complicated, I hope you realize that.” He sighed. “He'll need a vessel, as well, if he'll be staying topside. Unlike demons, it has to be a willing one.” 

“Not necessarily,” Gabriel said quietly. “If it were someone with a brain injury, someone in a vegetative state, you could get around the consent thing.” He looked up at the others, shrugging slightly. “It's not something that happens a lot, because the soul would have to pretty much be already gone for it to work. Most coma patients will have their soul until the body dies, but there are times when the body has been kept medically alive but there's no brain activity, and that usually means the soul has left the building.” 

“Okay, but how would we find something like that? There's a lot of logistics that would have to be worked out, and it kinda sounds like a lot of things would have to go just right for it to work.” Sam looked at Gabriel sadly. “Gabe, man, I know you wanna do it this way, but I just don't see how it's gonna work.” 

“Leave the body snatching to me,” Crowley said easily. “I'll also speak with Mother on a spell that will pop Michael into said body.” 

“So, what, we just trust that you'll do what you say?” Gabriel snorted. “Sorry pal, I ain't buyin' what you're sellin'.” 

“I have just as much to loose as you lot if Michael succeeds in restarting the apocalypse. I have no interest in destroying the Earth, and I quite like living. In case you've forgotten, part of the plan is to exterminate my kind, whether Michael wins or Lucifer does. So, I have a bloody damn good reason to keep that from happening,” Crowley spat. 

“Okay, okay, guys, chill out,” Sam said, hands up in a peace making gesture. “We have to work together, we don't have to like each other.” He looked at both Crowley and Gabriel. “So, Crowley is in charge of finding a vessel for Michael and a spell to put him in it once we get him out of Dean. We've got the Horn, and the sigil that will bind his power.” He cocked his head to the side, thinking. “Would that same sigil work if it were on his new vessel? At least until you took his grace?” he asked Gabriel. 

Gabriel chewed his lip in thought. “It might. I could always carve it into the ribs, somewhere it wouldn't be seen, and would be hard to get to.” 

“Okay, so, all we'd need then would be Michael, here, topside, since we can't get to him in Heaven,” Sam said. 

“The only thing that would pull Michael from Heaven right now would be if he captured Lucifer,” Cas replied. He looked up at Sam, then at Gabriel. “What if we made him think we had him?”

“He has to know my lot are looking for Lucifer too, we could put out the rumor that we have him, that we've stashed him somewhere,” Crowley said, a small smile creeping across his face. “Well, done, Castiel.” 

“Okay, but how would we spread the rumor? Not like any of us got a direct line to Heaven, or anything,” Gabriel said with a frown. 

“Oh, but we do,” Sam said, grinning. “We've got Pamela and Ash. Ash can send out stuff on Angel radio, and let the rumor mill work from there.” 

“Only one snag, I'm afraid. What happens if Michael sends grunts to do reconnasiance, eh? They'll know something's up if all they sense from our little gambit is demons and humans,” Crowley pointed out. 

“Oh, they'll be something else for them to sense all right. Me.” Gabriel jerked a thumb at his chest. “Michael kept my resurrection a secret, I'm pretty sure the only other angels that knew were the ones whose grace he used to bring me back.” He looked around the table. “He won't know that I'm in on it, and any other angel will just sense the grace of an archangel, not who it belongs to.” 

Sam's mouth twisted like he wanted to protest, but he sighed instead. “Okay, so we use Gabe as bait. Crowley, how long do you think it'll take to locate a body we can use?” 

“I'll have my people start looking, shouldn't take more than a few days.” The demon stood, straightening his coat. “As soon as I know something, I'll call. If that's all for now?” He looked around the table, then nodded. “I'll be in touch,” he said, and vanished. 

“So, that was fun and all, but now I feel the need to unburden myself with either trashy tv or porn,” Gabriel said, standing from his seat at the table. 

“You better not be watching no porn in my house, mister,” Missouri snapped, glaring at the archangel. 

“Trashy tv it is, then,” he muttered, looking crestfallen. He stood up and headed for the door, arguing with Missouri about what consistituted trash tv as they headed for the living room. 

Sam laughed, standing as well. Even Cas smiled, thought it was small. “C'mon then, let's go watch some trashy tv.” He stopped at the doorway, after he noticed that Cas hadn't moved. “You coming, Cas?” 

“I think I'd rather go to my room, if it's all right,” Cas said quietly. 

Sam's face softened. “You know it is, Cas, you don't have to ask. You need anything?” 

Cas looked up at him then, and gave him another small smile. “No, but thank you, Sam.” 

Sam opened his mouth as if to say something, then stopped, and nodded at Cas instead, headed for the living room without another word. 

After a moment, Cas stood and made his way quietly to his room, shutting the door softly behind him.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in the home stretch, folks. I think one more chapter after this one will be it. Hope you've enjoyed the ride so far.

　　“Hello, Dean.”   
　　  
　　Dean’s eyes snapped open. “Damn,” he breathed, “I can’t believe you’re really here.”   
　　  
　　“I’m, not, actually. I’m just a creation of your own subconscious.”   
　　  
　　“Oh, great, imaginary Cas is a smart ass, that’s good to know,” Dean groused, but he couldn’t stop the smile that crept across his face. “Imaginary or not, man, it’s good to see you. I’ve been going crazy in here all by myself.”   
　　  
　　“Dean, you know you’re not really alone. The real me would come anytime you asked him to, you know that.”   
　　  
　　“I know, but, it’s still nice having a face to look at, you know?”  
　　  
　　“I don’t, but I’ll take your word for it,” Cas smiled.   
　　  
　　“So, ah,” Dean sighed, cuffing the back of his neck with one hand, “Now that you’re here, I don’t know what to say. I mean, it’s not like really talking to you, is it?”   
　　  
　　“Not really, no, but is that what you really want to be doing right now?” Cas tilted his head as he asked the question, and the gesture was so very _Cas_ that it made Dean’s heart give a painful thump.   
　　  
　　“Not sure what you mean. I’ve been going crazy in here, I wanted some company.”   
　　  
　　“You may be able to lie out there,” Cas made a sweeping gesture, “but in here, the only one you’re lying to is yourself.”   
　　  
　　Dean frowned, and looked down. “No clue what you’re getting at, Cas.” Except he kinda thought he did.   
　　  
　　A gentle hand cupped his cheek. The shock of the touch snapped Dean’s eyes back up, taking in the fact that Cas was suddenly much, much closer than he had been before. A good deep breath on either man’s part would have their chests brushing against each other. His thumb brushed slowly across his cheekbone, and Dean fought to suppress a shudder. “Cas?” he croaked, his throat suddenly too dry to get the sounds out.   
　　  
　　Cas said nothing, just gave him a small smile.   
　　  
　　Even now, Dean could lie to himself. He could crack a joke, step back, and let this go. He could tell himself that he didn’t yearn to know what kissing Cas would feel like with the angel a willing participant. He swallowed hard, and slowly raised his hand to mirror Cas, feeling the rough catch of stubble against his palm, contrasted by the smooth skin over his cheekbone. His breath shuddered out in a sigh, as he closed the scant distance between them, pressing his lips softly to the other man’s. They were surprisingly soft against his, and Dean teased his tongue against the seam of Cas's lips, silently asking for entry. Cas obliged him, and Dean dipped inside, his tongue flicking up against the roof of his mouth before rubbing softly against Cas's tongue.   
　　  
　　He wasn’t sure when it happened, but when he came back to himself, he had buried one hand in the back of Cas's hair, lightly tugging on the silky strands. His other hand had slid down to cradle his jaw, tilting his face slightly to deepen the kiss between them. Kissing Cas was awesome, he’d be lying to say otherwise, and yet. . .it wasn’t right. Dean broke off with a groan, panting as he rested his forehead against Cas's. When Cas would have moved forward to kiss him again, Dean took a shaky breath and stepped back, letting his fingers slide free of the angel’s hair and face. He was rock hard, just from a fucking kiss.   
　　  
　　“Cas, man, I. . .not that that wasn’t, you know, good, but. . .” Dean broke off, and felt himself flush with embarrassment. He was apologizing to a damn figment of his own imagination.   
　　  
　　“It’s fine, Dean. I know that I’m currently a poor substitute.” He looked unruffled as always, but gave Dean a small smile. “Will you kiss the real me when you see him again?”   
　　  
　　“It’s complicated,” Dean sighed.   
　　  
　　“Uncomplicate it.”   
　　  
　　Dean frowned. “It’s not that simple.”   
　　  
　　“It doesn’t have to be that complicated, either. You need to tell him of your feelings for him.”   
　　  
　　“If it was that easy, I’d have done it a long time ago,” Dean snapped.   
　　  
　　“The only impediment to your happiness is, and has always been, you, Dean. The fact that a creation of your own subconscious is telling you this should prove the veracity of the statement.”   
　　  
　　“Fuck you, Cas,” Dean replied, scowling.   
　　  
　　Cas held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Very well, but please think on it? You deserve to be happy, Dean. You deserve to be loved.”   
　　  
　　“I’ll think about it.” Dean sighed again. “So, what happens now? You just hang out with me? Or go back to wherever I conjured you from?”   
　　  
　　“I can stay if you wish, or not. You created me, after all.”   
　　  
　　Dean was quiet for a long moment, chewing on his bottom lip in thought. “As much as I wanted company earlier, I think I kinda need some time, here.”   
　　  
　　“I understand.”   
　　  
　　 _This is such a bad idea,_ he thought to himself before he reached out to Cas. “C’mere, Cas,” he said, pulling the angel in for a hug. He let it linger, closing his eyes and relishing in the feel of the man in his arms. He pulled back slightly, and kissed Cas softly once more, short but sweet. “One for the road, I guess,” he huffed, trying to smile. Shaking his head, he stepped back from the angel.   
　　  
　　“Remember, Dean, a part of me is always with you,” Cas said gently.   
　　  
　　Dean closed his eyes against the sudden sting of tears that he refused to let fall. “I know, Cas.” When he didn’t get a response, he opened his eyes. Cas was gone.   
　　  
~~

　　It’d been a long two days since Sam had heard from Crowley. Every time he’d called the demon, his phone either went to voice mail, or he got a terse, “Not now, Moose,” and a dial tone in his ear. The inactivity made him restless and edgy, and while normally he enjoyed Gabriel’s company, he currently was fighting the urge to see if he could smother the smaller man with a pillow. Sam was currently stretched out on his bed, trying to read, while Gabriel paced back and forth at the foot of the bed.   
　　  
　　“Crowley needs to get his head out of his ass already,” Gabriel complained. “I coulda found a damn vessel yesterday, what’s taking him so long?”   
　　  
　　Sam managed to stifle a sigh. “It wasn’t just finding a vessel, Gabe, it was finding a spell to put Michael in it too.”   
　　  
　　“Still. Don’t trust the smarmy dick, if his mom is really the hot shit witch she’s supposed to be, she’d have it figured out by now.”   
　　  
　　“Yeah, well, you’re just gonna have to cool it and find someway to occupy yourself until we hear from Crowley,” Sam growled, trying again to focus on the book he was reading. For a handful of minutes, Gabriel was blessedly quiet, and Sam started to relax into his book. That is, until a piece of popcorn managed to bean him on the nose, bouncing off and landing on the page. He shot a murderous glare at Gabriel, who now held a gigantic bowl of popcorn.   
　　  
　　“Dude, seriously?”  
　　  
　　“Lighten up, Sammich. Come watch a movie with me.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I’ll share my popcorn! I won’t even sit in your lap,” he said with an exaggerated wink.   
　　  
　　“Why the hell would you sit in my lap? Wait, no, don’t answer that. I’m trying to read, Gabe, you can watch a movie by yourself.”   
　　  
　　“So I can see better, duh!” he laughed, fluttering his eyelashes. “Plus, makes it easier to share the popcorn, you wouldn’t have to reach as far.” He grinned and cocked his head to the side. “Course, if you want, you could sit in MY lap, I wouldn’t mind.”  
　　  
　　Sam shook his head, “First, hell no, nobody is sitting in anybody’s lap. Second, I’m reading. Get Cas to watch with you.”   
　　  
　　“Bah, he’s outside helping Missouri do something with dirt and weeds,” Gabriel scoffed. “And he’s a wet blanket when it comes to doing anything fun. C’mon, Sam,” he wheedled, “I promise to keep my hands to myself, if you’ll come watch a movie with me.”   
　　  
　　“You’re worse than Dean,” Sam groaned.   
　　  
　　“Hey, fuck you, Tonto, I’m way cooler than Dean ever thought about being. But I’ll make you deal, come watch a movie with me and I’ll let you pick it.”   
　　  
　　Sam looked up at him suspiciously. “Anything I want?”   
　　  
　　“Yup.”   
　　  
　　“And no bitching over what I chose?”  
　　  
　　“None, scout’s honor!”   
　　  
　　“Dude, you weren’t a boy scout,” Sam pointed out, but couldn’t help the beginnings of a smile.   
　　  
　　“Nope, but the point still stands. So whadya say Samsquatch?”   
　　  
　　Sam heaved a sigh, marking his place and putting the book aside. “Fine,” he said, standing up to follow Gabe downstairs.   
　　  
　　All plans derailed soon after they got downstairs, however, as they entered the living room to find Crowley sitting in the armchair.   
　　  
　　“Moose, Herald, pleasure as always.”   
　　  
　　“I take it you found something?” Sam asked.   
　　  
　　“About fuckin’ time,” Gabe muttered under his breath.   
　　  
　　“Yes, Samantha, I did, despite the lack of faith from your rude angel.”   
　　  
　　“He’s not-” Sam protested, but Crowley cut him off.   
　　  
　　“I don’t care. I’ve come to tell you that everything is ready on my end. I’m assuming that you lot are ready as well?”   
　　  
　　Gabriel and Sam traded a quick glance before Sam nodded at Crowley. “Yeah, we have everything we need on our end. When can we start?”   
　　  
　　“Now, preferably. The sooner this unpleasantness is dealt with, the better,” Crowley answered.   
　　  
　　“I’ll grab Cas and Missouri,” Gabriel said, heading for the backdoor.   
　　  
　　In no time, everyone had gathered in the living room. As they all took their seats, Gabriel spoke. “So, you’ve got a body, I take it?”  
　　  
　　“Not just that, I’ve also got the spell and the evil lair with which to trap our errant fairy tale prince,” Crowley smirked. “I’ve held up my end of the bargain. Now you lot need to do yours, and neutralize the threat of apocalypse once and for all.”   
　　  
　　“Okay, we’ve got the sigil, the holy oil-” Sam started, but Gabriel interrupted.   
　　  
　　“And my horn,” he said, grinning cheekily at Crowley, who’s mouth dropped open.   
　　  
　　“The horn, THE horn? The famous horn of Gabriel? Impossible,” he spat.   
　　  
　　“Oh, it’s possible bucko.” Gabriel patted the front of his coat. “I’ve looked for it for a long time, but I got it back now. So don’t get any ideas,” he warned, not missing the brief look of greed cross Crowley’s face.   
　　  
　　“Wouldn’t dream of it,” the demon said smoothly. “Now, shall we get this started? The sooner we get everything in place, the sooner this can all be over with and I can go back to running Hell.”   
　　  
　　Sam looked at Cas, who’d remained quiet throughout the exchange. “Wanna go give somebody a heads up?” he asked, giving him a small smile.   
　　  
　　“Yes. I’ll be but a moment.” With a nod to the room, Cas stood and headed for the stairs.   
　　  
　　“And who, praytell, is our dear Feathers giving a heads up to?” Crowley’s tone was silky, but no one missed the thread of displeasure in it.   
　　  
　　“He’s going to tell Dean, that we’re ready to move forward with our plan,” Sam answered. “Unlike demons, we don’t back stab our allies.”   
　　  
　　“You wound me to the core, Moose. After all we’ve been through,” Crowley replied, putting a hand on his chest in mock affront. “Although, I would be very interested to know how Castiel is able to contact someone who is supposed to be on angel lock down.”   
　　  
　　“None of your beeswax, demon,” Gabriel said lazily, making a show of cleaning his nails with his angel blade. “You don’t need to know everything.”   
　　  
　　“I am truly astounded by the lack of trust,” he answered. “I may be a demon, but I haven’t played you false.”   
　　  
　　“This time,” Sam groused, crossing his arms across his chest and glaring at the smaller man.   
　　  
　　“That’s enough, all of you. We’ve got bigger fish to fry,” Missouri cut in. “As soon as Castiel is done, we need to get this show on the road.” She glared around the room. “And if ya’ll can’t say somethin’ nice, don’t say nothin’ at all.”   
　　  
　　Pointed silence met her last remark, and it remained unbroken until Cas came back downstairs. Noticing the tension, he looked around warily. “Is everything all right?”  
　　  
　　“Peachy,” Missouri grumbled. She gave the angel a smile. “Dean all set?”  
　　  
　　“Yes. He said good luck, and kick Michael’s ass for him,” Cas said, with a barely there smile.   
　　  
　　“Well, no time like the present,” Crowley said, rubbing his hands together as he stood. “If you’ll all touch, I can take us all there.” He rolled his eyes at the hesitation. “Yes, yes, I know, if I do anything you lot will enact some pointless, boring torture upon me before you kill me. Now that we’ve gotten the threat out of the way, shall we?”   
　　  
　　Gabriel and Sam exchanged a glance, before Gabriel closed the distance and placed a hand on Crowley’s shoulder. He reached back for Sam, who put his hand on Cas’ shoulder, who in turn placed his palm lightly on Missouri’s shoulder. As soon as the group were touching, they found themselves in front of a nondescript warehouse. The air was warm and dry.   
　　  
　　“We’re not in Kansas anymore,” Gabriel snorted. “Arizona, Crowley, really?”  
　　  
　　The demon shrugged. “I have many places such as this. This one was conveniently empty at the time.” He led the way to the double doors, unlocking them and ushering the others inside. Inside a male and female demon stood around a body on a hospital bed, hooked up to some medical equipment, and wearing silver handcuffs and a silver neck restraint. The male was tall, with dark hair and a goatee flecked with silver. The woman was Asian American, slender with a waterfall of dark hair spilling over her shoulders. Both wore business attire, the man in a sharp gray suit, the woman in a blazer, skirt, and stiletto heels. Close by, a table was set up with various spell components.   
　　  
　　“Sir, all is ready, just as you asked,” the male demon spoke, bowing slightly to Crowley.   
　　  
　　“Excellent, Marcus. Sumiko, any issues with our host body?”   
　　  
　　“No, sir. The machines are keeping the body alive until it’s needed, and the angel restraints should hold him once Michael is inside.”   
　　  
　　“Good work, both of you.” He turned to the rest of the group. “I am sure we won’t be waiting long, so any preparations you need to make should be done now.”   
　　  
　　Gabriel nodded. “Missouri, I need you to make a decent sized circle with the holy oil on the floor, but don’t light it yet. I’ll tell you when. Sam, I need you to start the sigil, but don’t finish it. Cas, you’re on body guard duty,” he snickered at his unintentional joke, causing Sam to roll his eyes. “You’ll keep the vessel hidden until we’ve got Mikey trapped.” He and Cas walked to the body on the bed, grinning as the two demons backed away from him fearfully. The body was male, with blonde hair and a thick blonde beard. There were no outer wounds that Gabriel could see. “What happened to the stiff, anyways?” he asked the female demon.   
　　  
　　She looked at Crowley briefly, as if asking permission. At his nod, she spoke. “Aneurysm. He was gone before he hit the ground, but paramedics kept his vitals going until he got the hospital. They were getting ready to pull the plug when we took him.”   
　　  
　　Gabriel nodded, satisfied with the answer, and placed his hand on the body’s chest. A small glow of light pulsed around his hand, a quick flash. “Okay, body’s warded,” he said, stepping back. He looked over to Missouri, pleased to see her finishing the circle. Sam had completed all but the last line of his sigil, and was wrapping his hand in a piece of old cloth. “Want me to fix that, Sammich?”  
　　  
　　Sam shook his head. “No, I’ll just have to reopen it to finish. Won’t this sigil affect you too?”  
　　  
　　“Nope, ‘cuz I’ve got the counter sigil on the ole bod.”   
　　  
　　Missouri spoke up then. “Won’t Michael be tipped off that somethings wrong if he walks in and sees us?”  
　　  
　　“Nope, ‘cuz I’ll be hiding the three of us, while Cas keeps the vessel out of sight. I’m assuming Crowley can do the same for his people?” he asked, looking over at the man.   
　　  
　　“Of course.”   
　　  
　　“Okay, folks, show time. Sam, Missouri, I need you close.” When Missouri got near, he pressed a pack of matches into her hand. “When I give you the signal, light that sucker up. Same for you, Samsquatch, when I yell, finish that sigil.”   
　　  
　　“I believe we have company,” Crowley drawled, taking his place behind the table, his two demons close behind him. “Best make yourselves scarce.” They disappeared from view.   
　　  
　　Cas nodded at Gabriel, and touched the body on the bed, and both vanished from sight. Gabriel placed hands on both Missouri and Sam, hiding them as well.   
　　  
　　Sam looked toward the double doors. A bright white light flooded around the edges of the door, before fading out. Both doors exploded inward, as if hit with a bomb, sending dirt, dust, and shards of wood flying into the room. In the haze, a man stepped into the room, picking his way almost delicately through the debris. He’d known that Michael would be wearing Dean’s face, but it was still a shock to see it. Even if he hadn’t known that Dean wasn’t in the driver’s seat, everything about him was just a little off. Instead of the spiky fluff Dean normally wore, his hair was parted sharply to the side and slicked down. Gone was the scruff he usually had on his face, the cheeks smooth and clean. He was dressed in an immaculate dark gray suit, a forest green tie gleaming like a jewel. Even his movements were different. Michael walking with his weight more forward on his foot, much like a dancer.   
　　  
　　As he walked farther into the room, Michael spoke, looking around. “Brother, why do you hide from me? I know you’re here. I want to help you. We need to finish what we started, all those years ago.”   
　　  
　　Gabriel watched as Michael came further into the room, waiting for him to cross the line of oil. As soon as he had, he nodded sharply at Missouri. She lit the matches and threw them onto the circle, encasing Michael within the ring of flames.   
　　  
　　“Really, Lucifer? You know this won’t hold me for long,” Michael mocked.   
　　  
　　Gabriel took a deep breath, before dropping the invisibility to face his older brother. “Sorry, Mikey, Luci couldn’t make it.” He looked back at Sam. “Now, Sam!”  
　　  
　　With a bright flash, the sigil ignited as Sam completed the last line. Michael’s face hardened, becoming more arrogant and cold.   
　　  
　　“I should have known you’d betray me, Gabriel. I wanted to share paradise with you, but when I win against Lucifer, I will destroy you once more. This changes nothing, even though you’ve temporarily hobbled me, you can’t make me leave this vessel.”   
　　  
　　“That’s where you’re wrong, brother.” Gabriel reached into his coat, withdrawing the Horn.   
　　  
　　“Where did you get that? It was supposed to be destroyed!” Michael cried.   
　　  
　　“I see you remember this, huh? One of my favorite little party favors Dad gave me. Was all kinda fun using it to destroy those walls at Jericho. But do you remember what else it can do?” he asked, an evil grin on his face.   
　　  
　　“You wouldn’t dare,” Michael spat, his hands clenched at his sides.   
　　  
　　“Oh, but I would. Castiel, if you please,” and Cas dropped his own invisibility, revealing the waiting vessel.  
　　  
　　“You can’t force me to take that vessel. Even if you force me out, I will find my way back to my promised one,” Michael growled.   
　　  
　　“Yeah, about that,” Gabriel smirked, as Crowley appeared, beginning the spell as he tossed ingredients into the waiting bowl. At the demon’s nod, Gabriel raised the horn to his lips, and blew. The horn rang out, a sweet clarion call like bells on a frosty winter morning. 

　　The sound was beautiful, but Michael began to shake and moan, doubling over as if in pain. “Brother, please,” he begged.   
　　  
　　The note went on and on, and Michael fell to his knees, hard, throwing his arms wide and his head back. White vapor began to pour from his nose and mouth, streaming upward to swirl in a circle above, contained by the flames. As the last of it left, Dean slumped over in the circle, and the white smoke swirled angrily, trapped.   
　　  
　　Crowley began to chant then, a long line of what sounded like Gaelic, and locking eyes with Gabriel, raised one hand with a sharp looking blade to his other palm. He made a quick downward slice, and held his hand over the bowl, allowing his blood to mingle with the ingredients. His voice got louder, and when he nodded at Gabriel, the archangel yelled to Sam. “Quick, break the circle!”   
　　  
　　Sam picked up an old piece of cloth and smothered part of the flame, making a break in the fire. The smoke darted toward the break, but just outside the circle, it stopped, hesitating. Slowly, reluctantly, it began to creep towards Cas and the waiting vessel. Crowley finished the spell with a shout, and the smoke suddenly rushed inside, and the body bowed on the bed, eyes snapping open and flaring blue. Quick as a blink Gabriel was at his side, while Sam darted to Dean’s, calling his brother’s name.   
　　  
　　“I will kill you slowly for this, brother,” Michael glared, tugging sharply on the cuffs that held him captive.   
　　  
　　“Yeah, I don’t think so, _brother_. You are in serious need of a time out, and I’m gonna give it to you. Even if Dad wanted the apocalypse to go on, he wouldn’t have wanted you slaughtering our brothers and sisters for fun or petty vendettas. So, you’re gonna go live with the humans for awhile. See how the other half lives.”   
　　  
　　“No, you wouldn’t dare,” Michael sputtered, eyes wide.   
　　  
　　“Sorry, big bro, but you’ve left me no choice,” Gabriel said sadly. His angel blade dropped into his hand as he reached into another coat pocket and pulled out a small vial. He looked up at Cas. “Hold his head still for me, will you?”   
　　  
　　“Gladly,” Cas said, tone venomous, as he grabbed Michael’s head to hold him still.   
　　  
　　“Brothers, please, don’t do this, I can make amends, I can,” Michael babbled, as Gabriel made the shallow cut on his neck. He quickly placed the open vial to the cut, as Michael’s golden grace seeped out. After he had it all, Michael slumped to the bed, defeated, as Gabriel slid a finger across the cut, healing it. With a touch, the former angel stood, the hospital bed and medical equipment gone, and Michael stood before them in jeans and button down shirt.   
　　  
　　“Okay, so here’s how this is gonna work. I’m gonna take you someplace and you’re gonna go out, get a job, all that jazz. I’ll set you up with a place to live and some money to start with, but the rest is up to you. But I’ll be keeping an eye on you, and I’ll know if you step one single toe out of line. So before you start thinking you’ll just pray to some of your loyal angels, I’ve fixed it so that the only prayers you’ll pray will come straight to me, no matter who you think of.”   
　　  
　　“I despise you. I wish I’d never brought you back.”   
　　  
　　Gabriel shrugged. “I’m sure the angels you killed to do it wish that too. But we can’t always get what we want.”   
　　  
　　He looked over to say something to Crowley, but wasn’t surprised to see that he and his demons had vanished. He looked over at Sam, who was holding Dean in his lap, Missouri crouched beside him. “How is he, Sammich?”  
　　  
　　“Breathing, but he won’t wake up,” Sam said, worry creasing his brow.   
　　  
　　“He’s still in there, but I think he’s a little lost,” Missouri said, her hand on Dean’s forehead. “I can’t reach him.”   
　　  
　　“I can.”   
　　  
　　Gabriel looked over at his little brother. “Go get ‘em, tiger,” he said, shooting Cas a wink.   
　　  
　　“Just a moment, I have something I need to say to our brother,” Cas spoke softly, his face blank, unreadable. As he turned to face Michael, he stared at him. Without warning, he punched his brother, causing blood to gush from his nose. “That was for forcing Dean to make an impossible choice,” he spat, anger contorting his face. He swiftly punched him again, busting his lip. “That was for me.”  
　　  
　　Gabriel couldn’t help it, he laughed, clapping his little brother on the arm. “I think he got the message, little brother,” he grinned as Michael sunk to his knees, hands trying to staunch the blood, his face a mask of pain.   
　　  
　　“Okay, I’ma put big bro in his time out, Cas, you good here to do what you need to do?”   
　　  
　　“Yes, Gabriel. Thank you for all your help.”   
　　  
　　This time Gabriel was the one to step forward, pulling Cas into his arms. “That’s what bros are for. I’ll be back soon,” he said stepping back looking over his shoulder at Sam and Missouri. “I haven’t forgotten about my promise, Missouri, I just gotta take care of this first.”   
　　  
　　“I’m holding you to that, sugar,” Missouri answered, a small smile on her face.   
　　  
　　With a final nod to Cas, he turned and winked at Sam. “Try not to miss me too much, Samsquatch,” he teased, as he clapped a hand on Michael’s shoulder and the two vanished.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished! I'm so thankful for everyone who have left comments and kudos on this fic. When I started this, I didn't know I'd go through so many ups and downs before I could finish it. I'm just incredibly grateful to all who've taken the time to read my stories. Much love to you all! 
> 
> And yeah, sorry, no smut in this one, but my next fic (and if you've not read my other two) will have aaaaaaaallllll teh smut. Just sayin'.

　　Cas crouched in front of Dean. His breathing was steady and even, his face relaxed. He looked for all the world as if he were asleep. He reached out and cupped Dean’s face in his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin and the ghost of his breath against his wrist.  
　　  
　　“Cas,” Sam said softly.  
　　  
　　“It’ll be all right, Sam,” Cas said absently, not taking his eyes off Dean. He closed his eyes and reached inside himself, and cast his awareness out, reaching for that other piece of his grace that called Dean’s soul home. He reached out for that glowing green, but found he couldn’t reach it. He could see it in his mind’s eye, but it no matter how he tried, he couldn’t grasp it. Dimly, he felt a soft touch on his forehead, and Missouri’s voice whispered through his mind.  
　　  
　　 _I only got the faintest idea of how you do what you do, but I can tell ya it’s not gonna work this time, sugar. Michael did something to him, to keep him locked into his own head, asleep._  
　　  
　　Hesitantly, he answered her. **I don’t know what to do.**  
　　  
　　 _Yes you do, honey. You need to do what Dean couldn’t._  
　　  
　　 **I don’t understand.**  
　　  
　　 _Think of the spell Michael put you in. That’s the same one Dean’s in now. Dean didn’t want to believe that he was capable of lovin’ you, sugar, which is why it didn’t work for him. You don’t have those doubts, though, do you?_  
　　  
　　 **No. But I’m afraid.**  
　　  
　　 _I know, honey, but it’s the only way._  
　　  
　　 **I’m afraid I’ll lose him.**  
　　  
　　 _Honey, if we can’t wake him up, you’ve already lost him. Real life doesn’t always end like the fairy tales do, with the happily ever after. I’m not gonna lie to you, I can’t guarantee that when he wakes up he’ll fall into your arms. But I do know that love, real love, isn’t selfish, it’s about putting the other person’s needs before your own, even if those needs lead them away from you. If you love him, save him. You know what to do._  
　　  
　　With a sigh, Cas opened his eyes, looking from Missouri’s kind eyes to Sam’s anxious gaze. “I am unable to reach him, as I did before. Before he left, Michael put Dean to sleep, much like he did me in that other realm.”  
　　  
　　“Fuck,” Sam breathed, eyes wide. “That means you can wake him up!”  
　　  
　　Cas flinched.  
　　  
　　“Cas, c’mon, man, I know how you feel about my brother. I know, that even though it’d kill him to admit it, he cares about you too. Please, man, please, save him, I’m begging you.”  
　　  
　　Cas still hesitated, his shoulders tight with tension and discomfort. He stared at Dean for a long moment, before he looked up at Sam and Missouri. “Might we have a bit of privacy? I don’t think Dean would appreciate having an audience if he wakes up in the middle. . .” he trailed off, tugging self-conciously at his collar.  
　　  
　　“Yeah, sure man, shit, I didn’t think about it that way.” Sam gently laid his brother down and got to his feet, and held out a hand to help Missouri up. “We’ll be just outside, okay?”  
　　  
　　Missouri gave him a small nod, before turning to follow Sam outside.  
　　  
　　Carefully, Cas sat, and pulled Dean onto his lap. He cradled the hunter against his chest, tucking Dean’s head under his chin. His very being throbbed with want, but the want was warring with fear for dominance. _You’re a warrior of Heaven, dammit, act like it!_ he told himself sternly, and shifted Dean slightly so that his head was resting on Cas’ shoulder, face tipped toward him. With his other hand, he gently cradled the smooth skin of his cheek, rubbing his thumb softly over the cheekbone. Slowly, he leaned down, their lips almost touching. Steeling his resolve, he felt his heart swell. Even if it was only one time, he’d finally feel Dean’s lips against his. Softly, he pressed his lips to Dean’s, putting everything he felt, had ever felt for this man into the press of soft flesh to flesh. He felt a spark, almost like electricity, making his lips tingle and his skin buzz. At first, he thought he imagined it, but gradually the lips underneath his began to move, and a hand cupped his face.  
　　  
　　Cas opened his eyes, looking down into forest green. Slowly, they pulled apart, and Cas felt his face heat from the intensity of Dean’s stare. He couldn’t tell what Dean was thinking, or feeling, but at least he didn’t look angry or disgusted. Still, he felt like he needed to explain.  
　　  
　　“I’m sorry, Dean, but we thought it was the only way, I promise I didn’t mean it,” he stuttered, words tripping over themselves in his rush to explain.  
　　  
　　“I hope that’s not true,” Dean said, brushing fingertips down the side of Cas’ face. “If it is, that’s really gonna hurt my feelings.”  
　　  
　　“I. . .I don’t understand.”  
　　  
　　“True love’s kiss, right? That’s what woke me up? Figures, that douchebag made me the freakin’ chick, that fucker,” he grumbled.  
　　  
　　“You’re not. . .upset?”  
　　  
　　Dean looked up at him, then. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and shut his eyes briefly. “Cas, man, help me up, I can’t do this being held like a chick on the cover of a cheesy romance novel.”  
　　  
　　Swiftly, Cas stood, pulling Dean to his feet as well. He started to let go of his wrist, to take a step back, but Dean caught his hand, taking back the step and bringing them close again.  
　　  
　　“I had a lot of time to think, trapped up here,” he said quietly, tapping his temple. “Wanna know the really crazy thing though? It wasn’t until I made a copy of you, in my head, that I realized how much the real you meant to me.”  
　　  
　　“You made a . . .copy? Of me? Why?” Cas asked, tilting his head curiously.  
　　  
　　Dean gave him a small grin, that lifted one side of his mouth. “That, right there, that’s part of it.” At Cas’ frown, he laughed. “I missed you, man. And well, we talked. Well, really, I guess it was talking to myself. But still, I definitely had things to think about.”  
　　  
　　“I’m glad that some part of me was able to help you in some small way, but I still don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.”  
　　  
　　“Fuck it, I was never good at explaining things. Kinda was always better at show’n’tell,” Dean growled, before surging forward, his hands cradling Cas’ face to pull him into a fierce kiss.  
　　  
　　Cas was frozen, his shock rending him stiff and immobile. When Dean noticed Cas wasn’t kissing him back, he pulled back with a frown. “Cas? Uh, I’ll admit, I kinda assumed, here, am I, uh, barking up the wrong tree here?”  
　　  
　　“You. . .want to kiss me?” Cas felt like he’d stepped into one of Gabriel’s weird alternate realities. Surely Dean couldn’t be offering what he thought he was, could he?  
　　  
　　“Uh, yeah, man, that’s usually the motivation when somebody kisses somebody else,” Dean said, a slight flush creeping up his cheekbones. “But if you don’t wanna, I get it-” he was cut off abruptly when Cas threw himself at Dean, kissing him fiercely.  
　　  
　　“Yes, I want to,” Cas breathed against Dean’s lips. “I’ve always wanted to.” He pulled back as a thought struck him. “But Dean, I know you’re not conventionally attracted to males.”  
　　  
　　“Well, not gonna lie, I did some pretty fucked up shit for money when Sammy and I were kids. So it’s not like I don’t kinda have some experience. But how about we’ll just call me ‘Cas-sexual’, and leave it at that, huh?”  
　　  
　　“I think I like that idea, very much.” He kissed Dean again softly, just because he could, before pulling away. “Sam and Missouri are outside, I’d asked them to give me privacy, I didn’t think you would want an audience if it worked like I’d hoped.”  
　　  
　　“Good call,” Dean laughed, still blushing. “I’m not ashamed of you, or anything, but it’s gonna be weird kissing you in front of Sammy.”  
　　  
　　Cas gave him one of those really rare smiles, so wide and bright you could see his gums. “I believe Sam will be supportive.”  
　　  
　　For the first time, Dean noticed what he had on. “Seriously? What is it with the god squad, always gotta be in suits and ties and shit? Ugh, we need to get out of here, this monkey suit smells like whatever crappy cologne Michael took a bath in.”  
　　  
　　Cas took his hand in his and placed a soft kiss on the back. “As you wish.”  
　　  
　　Dean blinked at him. “Dude, did you just Princess Bride me?”  
　　  
　　Cas grinned again. “Maybe,” he said, tugging on Dean’s hand to lead him outside.  
　　  
　　Dean let himself be pulled, but felt he still had to put up a token resistance for the sake of his masculine pride. “Dude, I am NOT gonna be the chick in this relationship.”  
　　  
　　“As you wish,” Cas said again, trying unsuccessfully to smother his grin behind his other hand.  
　　  
　　“Asshat,” Dean grumbled, turning his hand so he could tangle his fingers in the other man’s.  
　　  
　　“Dean!” Sam called, as he caught sight of the two of them coming out of the ruined door.  
　　  
　　Dean let go of Cas to be engulfed in a hug from his brother, holding him tightly for a few seconds and patting his back. “Damn, Sammy, it’s good to see you.”  
　　  
　　“You too, Dean, you too man.”  
　　  
　　“Missouri!” Dean called, pulling the woman into a hug. “I hate the reason why, but it’s damn good to see you.”  
　　  
　　“You too, sugar,” she said sweetly, returning the hug. However, when she pulled back, she popped him in the back of the head.  
　　  
　　“Ouch, the hell!” Dean complained, rubbing the affected spot.  
　　  
　　“That’s for bein’ a damn fool! I outta turn you over my knee and tan your hide for doin’ somethin’ so stupid!” Missouri glared at Dean. “Next time you feel like doin’ somethin’ so damn dumb, come see me first, so’s I can beat the urge outta ya first!”  
　　  
　　Dean looked over at Sam and Cas, who were fighting the urge to laugh. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, jerks.”  
　　  
　　“All right, Castiel, think you could escort an old lady home?” Missouri asked, turning to the angel.  
　　  
　　“Yes, ma’am,” Cas replied, smiling at her. As soon as the four clasped hands, he flew them back to Kansas.  
　　  
~~

　　“So, Gabriel’s back, huh? I guess I owe him big time, huh?”  
　　  
　　“Sure do, Deano!” called a voice from behind the couch.  
　　  
　　“Jesus!” Dean called, jumping at the unexpected voice. “You’re as bad as Cas, freaky angel ninja!”  
　　  
　　Gabriel laughed. “So I’m glad you and my brother got your heads out of your asses,” he said, nodding to where Cas and Dean’s hands were entwined on the couch cushion, “but I need to borrow my little bro for a few. I’ll bring him back in one piece, I promise,” he added, when he saw Dean’s frown.  
　　  
　　Cas got up, and brushed a soft kiss over Dean’s temple that made the other man blush. He looked up at Gabriel. “Are we going far?”  
　　  
　　“We don’t have to, no, in fact, we could just go out in the backyard for this if you like.”  
　　  
　　“Please?” Cas asked.  
　　  
　　“Yeah, yeah, I know, you don’t wanna be separated from boy toy there-”  
　　  
　　“Hey!” Dean protested.  
　　  
　　“This won’t take long, c’mon, Cas,” Gabriel said, leading the way to the backyard.  
　　  
　　Missouri’s backyard was large but neat, with sculpted flower beds and flowering trees. The whole thing was bordered by a tall fence, giving a modicum of privacy.  
　　  
　　Cas turned to face Gabriel once they were outside. “What did you need to speak to me about?”  
　　  
　　“I’m gonna be headin’ to Heaven soon, gotta start the clean up and start getting things back to normal. Well, whatever passes for normal for a buncha sheep in angel’s clothing, anyways.”  
　　  
　　“Gabriel. . .” Cas sighed.  
　　  
　　“No, no, I’m not asking you to come with me. I know you’d rather be here. But I do have something for you.” His face sobered, becoming more serious than Cas had ever remembered seeing it. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the shimmering golden vial of Michael’s grace. “I want you to have this.”  
　　  
　　Cas frowned at his older brother. “You want me to keep it safe? Surely it would be safer with you.”  
　　  
　　“No, Cas, I don’t want you to hold on to it. I want you to use it.”  
　　  
　　“But, that’s archangel grace. I’m just a seraph, my vessel was never meant to contain that kind of power. And the last time I had another’s grace inside me, it didn’t end so well.”  
　　  
　　“Yeah, but archangel grace isn’t the same as regular angel grace. It’s pure power, and it won’t make you sick and rot from the inside like stolen grace will. As for the vessel thing, let’s face it, you’ve been remade a few times, and each time Dad tinkered and made some improvements to the chassis. Plus, there’s that little thing I did, too. I kinda had this in mind the whole time, to be honest.”  
　　  
　　“But why? Why me? Surely there would be another angel, one more worthy.”  
　　  
　　Gabriel made a face. “Okay, who? None of those feathered fucks upstairs can manage a single individual thought between the lot of them. You’re my brother, you were always my favorite fledgling. I trust you, more than I trust anyone else, and I can’t think of any better hands for it to be in. Plus, I like the idea of not being the only archangel left,” he said, shrugging.  
　　  
　　Still, Cas hesitated. “Every time I’ve had a sudden, vast amount of power, I haven’t made good choices with it.”  
　　  
　　Gabriel rolled his eyes. “It’s called learning from your mistakes, Cassie. Plus, not like I won’t be checkin’ in on you on the regular. If you start to go all darkside, well, I’ll take it back. Easy peasy.”  
　　  
　　“Are you sure?” Cas felt he needed to give one last protest.  
　　  
　　“Yes, dammit, now take the fucking thing before I shove it down your throat for you,” Gabriel said with a smirk.  
　　  
　　“Very well.” Cas took the vial gingerly, as if would bite him. At Gabriel’s encouraging nod, he uncorked the vial. The grace surged eagerly toward him, filling his open mouth and nostrils, seeking his own grace and binding itself to it. Bright white light seemed to explode out from within him, his eyes flaring gold.  
　　  
　　“Cas!” Dean called, the bright flash having drawn the others from the house. He got to Cas in time to catch him as the angel slumped toward the ground. “The fuck, Gabriel, what did you do?” Dean asked, anger and worry making his voice harsh.  
　　  
　　“Relax, bucko, nothing bad. I just gave him a power up,” Gabriel answered easily, unwrapping a sucker and popping it into his mouth. “He’ll be right as rain in a sec.”  
　　  
　　“Dean,” Cas sighed, his fingers brushing Dean’s face. “It’s fine, Dean, I’m fine.”  
　　  
　　“What the fuck, Cas, what was that?”  
　　  
　　Cas smiled at Dean, and stood, helping the hunter to his feet as well. “Gabriel gave me Michael’s grace.”  
　　  
　　“So, what, you’re like an archangel now?” Sam asked, awe in his voice.  
　　  
　　Cas nodded at Sam. “Yes. The power was a bit. . .ovewhelming, for a moment. I’m fine now.”  
　　  
　　“Gabriel, the hell?” Dean asked the smaller man.  
　　  
　　He shrugged. “I needed a safe place to stash it. You think Crowley or others wouldn’t kill to get their hands on that? Plus, the only one who could take it from him now would probably be me or maybe Dad, at least not without something super heavy duty.” He looked back to Cas. “I might need your help now and again, upstairs, but for the most part just check in with me once a while and we’re cool.”  
　　  
　　“I can do that,” Cas answered easily.  
　　  
　　“Oh, and before I forget,” Gabriel said, winking at Missouri, snapping his fingers towards the house. “All fixed, better than new.”  
　　  
　　“Thank you,” Missouri smiled.  
　　  
　　“All right, it’s been real, but I got a mess to clean up. See you guys in the funny pages!” Gabriel called, and in the blink of an eye he was gone.  
　　  
　　“So, you’re all juiced up now, huh?” Dean asked Cas.  
　　  
　　“Yes, I suppose so.”  
　　  
　　“So, does that mean you could take the three of us and Baby home?”  
　　  
　　“I like the sound of that,” Cas answered, grinning at Dean.  
　　  
　　“I know, right?”  
　　  
　　“No, I meant, the sound of ‘home’.”  
　　  
　　“Plus,” Dean leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of Cas’ ear, “I have a memory foam mattress I wanna introduce you to.”  
　　  
　　“Dean, I’ve sat on your bed before.”  
　　  
　　“Who said anything about sitting?” Dean replied with a wicked smirk.  
　　  
　　Cas looked at him blankly for a minute, before he caught on. “Oh you mean inter-” he was cut off by Dean’s hand clamped over his mouth.  
　　  
　　“Sam, go get your crap, we’re going home,” Dean called loudly.  
　　  
　　Sam rolled his eyes, but turned back inside the house.  
　　  
　　“Missouri, thanks for everything,” Dean said, removing his hand from Cas’s mouth. He stepped back onto the porch, giving the older woman a hug. “You ever need anything, you call us, and we’ll be there, okay?”  
　　  
　　“Oh, honey, I know that. You just take care of that angel there. And Cas?” she called, beckoning him to her. She gripped him in a tight hug too. “You take care of my boys.”  
　　  
　　“We will,” both men answered. Sam came back down, duffel in hand.  
　　  
　　“Hey, think we could swing by the fake apartment and get all that stuff we bought?”  
　　  
　　“Seriously, Dean? You were the one yelling about going home.”  
　　  
　　“Yeah, but Sammy, that was some seriously nice stuff we bought!”  
　　  
　　“I can take you both home, then go back for it,” Cas offered.  
　　  
　　“I knew there was a reason I loved you,” Dean crowed, before realizing what he said. “Uh, I mean, I do, obviously, but. . .” he stammered.  
　　  
　　Cas shook his head, giving Dean a small smile before leaning forward to place a soft kiss on his lips. “I know.”  
　　  
　　Sam started laughing, then. “Dude, he totally Han Solo’d you!”  
　　  
　　“He did not! Cas, tell him, you probably don’t even know what that is!” Dean sputtered.  
　　  
　　“I’ll never tell,” Cas said with a grin, before touching both brother’s shoulders and taking them home.


End file.
